A Collection of Mischief and Devilry
by Dr. Fluffmuffin
Summary: A series of oneshots about the ninja and their daily hijinks.
1. Evening Out

**Summary: Zane and Cole decide to go ice skating.**

 **I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

Saturday evening was usually a fun night for the ninja—so long as each of them had something to do. Saturdays were intended for going out, whether it be for dinner, dates, or both, and staying in for the evening was considered both pathetic and a waste.

This was why, with the clock reading 7:30 and still ticking the night hours away, Cole lay fuming on the living room couch. The television flickered in and out of focus, its signal wonky due to the Bounty's position in the air. Cole grumbled as the campy sitcom he was watching repeatedly cut out in favor of static. He picked at little balls of fuzz gripping the couch's fabric, seething as he thought of his so-called "friends" who all made plans without him.

They didn't appear to have meant to; it just worked out that way. Jay and Nya left for dinner and a movie, Kai and Lloyd hunted down every last quarter on the Bounty and headed off to the arcade, and Zane had been out all day in the city's largest public library, doing something nerdy that Cole wasn't sure he'd be able to follow. That left him to spend the evening entertaining Sensei Wu, who wasn't much of a playmate anyway.

It wasn't the first time this happened. Every once in awhile, some unfortunate ninja was left to spend their evening alone with the television set, and out of the entire team, Cole hated it the most. Not because he didn't enjoy spending time alone, but because it happened to him most often. There were only so many weekends Cole could do this and still like himself by Sunday morning.

The television hummed as it blinked into static once more. He threw his head back into the cushions and groaned. He hated nights like this. Turning towards Sensei's room, he wondered if his teacher would be up for a game of blackjack.

The door to the Bounty's cabin suddenly squealed open, heavy footsteps following in its wake. Cole snapped his gaze in the other direction, surprised to see Zane appear in the living room entrance, carrying a large bag and looking thoroughly bushed.

Before Cole could think of something to say, Zane dropped the bag with a thud and said, "Some man hit me with his truck on my way back over here."

Cole's jaw fell to the floor, "Are you alright?"

Zane shrugged, "I am, but I dropped my books all over the sidewalk. Do you have any idea how filthy the streets of Ninjago are?"

Cole's head spun in circles as he processed Zane's nonchalant demeanor, "I guess, but were you hurt? Injured?"

Zane shook his head. "Shallow dent in my thoracic cage, nothing I cannot fix in the next day or so," he gestured to the couch, "May I sit?"

Cole shifted his feet to the floor, pleased that he finally had company. Dragging his bag behind him, Zane collapsed onto the other end, eyeing the television curiously.

"Are you fond of watching white noise?"

Cole shook his head, shutting off the set, "The signal's flickering out."

"Oh," Zane said.

"How was the library?" Cole asked, grabbing a handful of pretzels from a bag he set out earlier.

Zane smiled and turned on a nearby lamp. "Wonderful," he said as he unzipped his bag and pulled it near him, "I found this delightfully large book on ocean life!" he dug around inside until he emerged with a tome the size of the sideboard, "I think I'll spend the night with it, actually. If I can get it into the bedroom, of course. Would you mind carrying my bag for me?"

He flashed Cole one of his most earnest grins, the kind he knows well that Cole can't say no to.

Cole sighed. "Of course I will."

"Thank you, friend. So how has your evening been so far?"

Cole groaned, "Couldn't be worse."

His teammate frowned, "Why?"

"I'm just bored. Everyone has plans, and I hate spending Saturday nights alone."

"Oh," said Zane, "Would you care to read about ocean life with me?"

Cole laughed, "Not especially. The ocean weirds me out."

"Really? We could build a pillow fort."

That sounded interesting, but he'd still have to read a book about oceans, and Cole didn't think he'd be up to that.

"No thanks," he said, sighing, "I think I'll just head down to the all night café."

"You don't sound too enthused."

"Well, my good man, there's only so many nights I can go before I start looking pathetic. The staff can already guess my orders."

"Why not do something else instead?" Zane suggested, putting a finger to his lips in thought, "Is there anything you would like to do?"

Plenty of things, but, "None that we could do right now."

He could almost see the lightbulb appear over Zane's head as his eyes lit up, "I know!" he said, "I saw an ice skating rink on my route towards the library, would you be interested in skating for a few hours?"

"Hm," Cole looked towards his reflection in the empty television, "I dunno. Never been ice skating before."

At Zane's silence, Cole looked over to see his friend staring at him, mortified.

"You've never been ice skating before?"

Cole gave a slow head shake, "I hardly even saw snow where I grew up."

Zane was silent for a long time, to the point where Cole began to get concerned.

"Uh...Zane?"

"Get your shoes."

"Huh?"

 _"Shoes._ And grab your sweater." Zane stood and stepped over his bag, now forgotten. Cole sat up straight.

"We're going skating?"

"Of course," Zane went down the hallway, grabbing a knit hat.

"But what about your ocean book?" Cole asked, standing.

"The book can wait," Zane turned back to look at him, "This can not. I can't believe you have never gone ice skating."

He tossed over a jacket hanging on the rack. It was Kai's.

"It's not—my fault," Cole said, crumbling the garment as he went over to his shoes. He wasn't up for skating, but he didn't want to stay in, either.

"That is of no matter," said Zane, "You are going to come with me, and we are going to skate."

 _Okay,_ Cole thought _._ He didn't know how to skate, and he was certain he would look like a flailing baboon the whole time he did it, but he'd much rather spend the evening goofing around with his friend than silently seething all alone.

 _And who knows,_ he thought as they left the Bounty, _This might actually be fun._

* * *

He immediately regretted ever leaving the couch as soon as he entered the rink. It was far colder than he had expected, and he wished he had thought to bring his beanie, or some mittens. He shoved his hands into his pockets as Zane went over to retrieve some skates.

Cole began to examine his surroundings, and was surprised to find the rink completely empty. While he felt glad knowing no one would bear witness to the monstrosity that would be him skating, it was unnerving to enter a popular public area on a Saturday to find it completely empty. It felt like going to see a concert only to find yourself as the sole audience member.

"Here, Cole!" Zane called from a patch of carpet at the rink's edge. He already had his skates on, and was holding up the other pair.

Feeling self conscious, Cole went over and began slipping on the skates.

"Make sure they are laced tight," said Zane, his voice warm.

Cole pulled at the laces until they choked his shins. He stood with a wobble, and Zane stepped onto the ice, gliding away with the all the grace of a professional.

"It is a good thing we are alone tonight," said Zane, "Now we won't have to worry about other skaters running over your fingers."

Cole pressed his fingertips into his palms. Zane moved in a little circle before stopping to face him.

"Come on," he said, "Step onto the ice."

Cole stepped to the edge of the carpet, using one hand to grip the rail. He put one foot forward, and drew it back.

"What's wrong?" called Zane.

Cole shrugged, "I don't want to fall."

Zane laughed, "Do not worry about that. The first thing I am going to teach you is how to fall properly. Have you ever gone roller skating before?"

Cole nodded, " _That_ I have done."

Zane clapped his hands, "Good. Ice skating is similar. This will make teaching a breeze."

 _Good_ , Cole thought as he crept onto the ice, _I might not be a complete failure._

He gripped the railing so hard he feared he bent it. Zane skated to a stop near him, spraying a flurry of frost onto his ankles.

"Ready to fall properly?"

"Yes, I'm going to be doing it so much, I'd hate to do it wrong." Cole yelped as his left foot began sliding away from him.

"Do not worry," Zane wrapped his arm under both of Cole's and pulled him away from the rail, "It's for your own safety. It is important to fall so that you can keep your limbs protected, and so you know how to get up again."

Cole sighed, "Alright."

The falling process was about as painful as Cole imagined. Zane said it was important to fall sideways, and to keep all appendages, "towards the trunk," as he put it.

Falling down was the easy part; the hard part was getting up. Zane said to, "Keep your center of gravity," to keep your foot in between your hands as you stood up. Ten minutes of trying and failing had passed before he was able to do it by himself.

He was feeling pretty proud until Zane cheerfully sang that it was time to start, "marching and gliding," moving across the ice at a steady speed without falling.

Zane said it was like roller skating, but Cole didn't see the similarities at all. He floundered across the ice, wobbling and flopping and hardly managing to remain on his feet.

Or off his butt.

"You have to march," said Zane as Cole flailed about for the eightieth time.

"What do you mean, march?" his foot slipped out from beneath him, and he slammed on his behind once again. Getting up was a slow process, and all the while, Zane skated gracefully around the rink, like a swan circling a drowning crow.

"Are you okay?" Zane said as he came to a stop next to him, "We can quit if you want to."

"No, no," Cole stood higher, arms spread as he struggled to keep his center of gravity, "I'm getting the hang of it, really."

"Hm," Zane pressed his fingers to his lips, "I think I know something that may help you."

Cole nodded.

Zane held his arms ajar, "Try and—when you're gliding, pretend you are on a scooter. The ice is the road, and you'll propel yourself forward. This will help you move around."

Cole was skeptical, but, "Okay."

Things did seem easier after that. Cole found himself moving more than a few feet and remaining upright when he drifted to a stop. Once he was able to move around, Zane taught him to stop, which involved merely sliding the skate flat until it created a snowplow, as Zane called it.

Turning became easier when he finally figured out how to maneuver the momentum he carried. After a while, he was able to move around the rink with little to no trouble, much to Zane's delight.

"You did it!" he exclaimed.

Cole cheered as he made his first full lap, "Finally."

"Give yourself some credit," said Zane, speeding next to him, "You learn fast. I am proud of you."

"Thanks," said Cole, eyeing his friend, "Say, uh, how do you move so fast?"

"Get low, lean forward," said Zane, "And try not to look down so much. It's all about distribution of weight."

"Okay," Cole bent his knees and began gliding faster.

"There you go!" said Zane, slowing to turn.

Cole smiled, unable to believe he was having as much fun as he was. It was such a turnaround from the previous few hours, and he began considering returning for another Saturday. Sure, he was aching all over and was going to have trouble bending for the next few days, but this was fun, this was exciting, this was far more entertaining than roller blading. He should do this all the time, improve his skills. He began moving faster.

Zane suddenly let out a shout, and Cole saw the railing coming at him pretty fast. He wasn't sure he was able to turn in time. He tried to stop, but how was he supposed to stop again? Snowplow, right, snowplow. He turned his skate to the side, hearing it scrape layers of frost off the ice.

"Turn, turn!" came Zane's frantic call.

Turn? Now Cole was getting a little panicked. Should he turn or stop?

 _Listen to Zane,_ said a voice in his head, _He knows more than you, therefore he knows best._

He turned his skate straight and began leaning to the right.

"Wait! No, Cole stop!" Zane raced towards him, but it was too late. Cole hit the railing with a dull thud, and while he managed to avoid slamming his entire body into the wall, pain exploded in the hand he used to shield himself. Before his tailbone hit the ice again, he managed to yell out a single, but expressive, curse word.

* * *

"Well, Cole," the doctor clasped her hands together, "You've torn a ligament."

"Oh, man," Cole clutched his tender wrist, which had grown twice in size since they'd left the rink.

The doctor laughed, turning to Cole with a smile on her freckled face, "First time skating?"

Cole shrugged, "Um, on ice."

From his spot beside the door, Zane offered a tight smile.

"Well, don't worry," said the doctor, "It's only a minor sprain, just a tear. With a little time, some choice exercises, and rest, it'll heal on its own. Let's fix you up with a splint."

"Alright," Cole rubbed at his hand and looked over to Zane, "We've got some painkillers at home, right?"

"Yes," Zane said, his voice just above a whisper.

Cole frowned. Zane had been acting strange since he'd come rushing over to him after so gracelessly damaging some more of his sit bones. The entire walk here he'd been mostly silent, only answering Cole's questions with a small, "yes," or "no."

This behavior continued throughout the entire doctor's session and well after they left the building. They'd walked halfway back to where the Bounty was parked before Cole finally broke the silence.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Hm?"

"Come on!" Cole nudged his friend with the shoulder that wasn't connected to his injured wrist, "You're acting all weird. What's wrong?"

Zane looked at the splint that covered Cole's hand and sighed, "I just feel bad."

"For what, me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Zane barked out a laugh, "Look at yourself! Sprained wrist, multiple bruises, overworked muscles!"

With each injury, Cole became aware of how much he ached, but nevertheless, "So?"

"So? So!" Zane stopped and faced him, "That was very poor teaching on my part. I should have properly protected you. I should have given you wrist guards, a helmet. You could have been severely hurt," his eyes widened as a thought struck him, "You could have gotten a concussion! No, no, no," Zane shook his head and sat down on the curb, "That was poor teaching, very poor. I'm sorry, Cole."

Cole stood for a moment before dropping next to his friend, "Zane," he began, "It's really okay. It was my first time. We just move on, wiser than we were before. You're a great teacher. Besides, if tonight has made anything clear, it's that I got a real thick skull."

Cole smiled when he heard his friend chuckle.

"And hey," he added, "We can get wrist guards for next time. I know how to skate, now, so there should be fewer injuries, anyway."

Zane blinked, then turned to look at him, "You want to skate again?"

Cole grinned, "Yeah! This was the most fun I've had in weeks. We should go every Saturday."

A laugh left Zane's lips, "I think we should let you heal, first," he said, tapping at the splint.

Cole smirked, turning over his wrist, "Yeah, maybe."

"But we could—" said Zane, a little unsure, "In the meantime, we could get you your own skates, your own wrist guards, your own helmet."

"Woah, woah woah," Cole held up a hand, "I'll wear some wrist guards, but I'm not wearing any old helmet."

"Why not?"

 _Because it's dorky._ "Because I'll get helmet hair!"

Zane smirked, "Okay."

Cole grinned, and they sat awhile, enjoying each other's company. They were silent the rest of the way back to the Bounty, but the silence was a companionable one. The following morning Cole hurt so bad he had to get Lloyd to pull his pants up for him, but all the same, he couldn't wait for the following Saturday.

* * *

 **A collection of oneshots in all genres. Open to requests.**


	2. Out of Touch

**Requested by skylor chan**

 **I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

How long had it been since Kai had spoken with Skylor? Too long, he thought. Way too long.

The door to Chen's Noodle House opened with a friendly jangle and loosed the most alluring of smells. Heart thudding against his chest, Kai put on his best grin and entered the restaurant, eyes searching for that familiar head of scarlet red hair.

"Keep in touch," she had said to him months ago with a squeeze of his hand and a smirk.

Oh, how he failed to honor that simple but earnest request. Sure, he had visited this restaurant every once in awhile, but as far as continuing their friendship and hopefully more? He'd failed. He'd failed terribly.

Skylor managed her father's entire chain of restaurants in Ninjago, but this one, on a small road branching off from the city, was the one where she resided. She liked to serve as both manager and hostess, greeting each customer with a kind smile and making sure their noodles were prepared just right. Kai knew this coming in, which was why he was struck dumb when a teenaged boy with a nose ring and a face that desperately needed happiness greeted him instead.

"Is...Skylor here?" Kai whispered as he was led to his seat.

The kid tossed his thumb over his shoulder, a vague gesture towards the door to the kitchen, "She's arguing with the chef. She sent me out to, _handle things._ "

The kid began to grumble and mumble complaints Kai couldn't quite understand. Not that it mattered; he got the answer he was looking for, but he couldn't say he was satisfied.

"Will she come back out?"

"She will eventually," the kid gestured to a two-person booth at the corner of the building's largest window, located underneath the bright neon sign that lit up the sidewalk outside.

Kai plopped into the seat somewhat reluctantly—he'd been hoping to speak with Skylor immediately—but he was pleased to find the seat was in direct view of the kitchen door. There would be no way she could miss him.

The teenage host—Alan, his name tag read—turned out to also be his waiter, the staff being short on this Tuesday night. Kai was asked what he'd like to start out with, on this wonderful evening.

"Uh, a menu," Kai said, mind distant.

Alan walked away with his mouth in a painful twist, but Kai hardly gave it a thought. He had far more important musings to ponder while he waited for Skylor to appear through that kitchen door. What would he say to her? What could he say to her?

"Keep in touch," she had asked.

He had only spoken to her sparsely since then. He hadn't meant neglect a friendship so important to him; he'd returned to the Bounty that evening with every intention of calling her, visiting her the following week.

But then Wu had to open his tea shop, and he needed _everyone's_ help, apparently. Then Kai needed to help run it, because the ninja needed to stay together, in case evil came knocking at their front door. And then there had been Morro, sweeping them up into a mess of a whirlwind. Time had moved right down the road, faster than he'd anticipated.

 _Surely she'll understand,_ he questioned, fiddling with the jar of parmesan cheese at the table's center. He tried listening for her voice, distinctly low and lulling over the buzz of the evening crowd, but was unable to distinguish it. He sighed.

 _She'll understand,_ his mind insisted. He looked around, scanning the various adornments decorating the restaurant's walls. A corner of his mouth tilted upwards; Skylor had quite the flair for decorating. Chen's Noodle House had taken a step on a better path since she'd taken over the business. It was downright admirable; what had been just another chain restaurant had become a staple of Ninjago cuisine in a matter of months. His little smirk turned into a smile.

His eyes froze when he saw a particular sign hanging over a weathered chalkboard containing several titles and subsequent names. The sign read in fancy purple lettering, "Noodle Hall of Fame!" Upon the chalkboard was the title, "Most Amount of Noodles Eaten in Under an Hour!" Under it was the name: Cole Brookstone. Kai's brow furrowed. When had his friend been in here?

The sounds of banging pots and clattering utensils joined the hum of conversation as the door of the kitchen swung open. Neck moving so fast it cracked, Kai snapped his gaze towards the doorway, finding exactly what he'd been looking for since he arrived. Skylor stood with a hand on her hip, head half turned as she finished speaking with whoever worked on the door's other side. When she finished, her eyes found his in an instant as she faced the dining area.

Kai didn't remember standing, but he was, suddenly, his heart pounding in the back of his throat as he beheld his crush once again. Her face looked surprised for the briefest moment before the expression melted into the cool but enticing look she wore when Kai first lay eyes on her, back on the boat to Chen's island.

It would figure she would don that look, for Kai felt like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. He knew then and there, it had been too long.

She didn't come over immediately, rather, she began speaking with some of her other employees, before passing from table to table. Kai hurried into his seat, trying and failing to cool the blush that colored his cheeks. If only he had a menu to allow him to look busy. He looked around for the Alan kid and found him attempting to flirt with a customer, using said menu to give his hands something to do rather than deliver it to a person who really needed it. Kai let out a low growl.

"Hey."

The hair on the back of Kai's neck rose and he felt the need to stand again. Skylor had arrived at his table. She stood at the corner of the opposite bench, her elbow notched on top of it and her hands folded across her torso. He wondered, was she angry? Was she upset he hadn't remained in contact?

She had a slight smile on her face, and an air of warmth around her (or was Kai imagining that?). She gave no indication that she was upset, but Kai could hardly say she was as happy to see him as he was to see her. Too long, indeed.

"Um, hey," Kai inwardly cringed as he cleared his throat, "Hello, Skylor."

"It's been a while," she stated, her expression unchanging.

Kai felt his neck grow hot, "Ah...yes," he said, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together, "It's uh..." all the reasons Kai had prepared before arriving fell to pieces as he blenched under Skylor's stare, "It's been—busy," he raised his eyes to hers, "You know about the whole Morro debacle."

The smile left her face, "Certainly."

There was a painful pause.

Skylor inhaled, "I hope everything is well with you, now. Is there anything you'd like to order?"

The change in subject caught Kai a little off guard, "No, not yet," he deflected with a wave of his hand, "Still looking."

"Alrighty then," to his surprise, Skylor made to leave, "Let us know when you've decided what to order. Be sure to check out tonight's special," without looking at him, she walked away, her ponytail swinging like a pendulum between her shoulder blades.

Kai watched her go with his mouth slightly ajar. Perhaps the air of warmth had been his imagination, because that—however deserving—was cold. It was clear she was chafed, whether by the months of silence, his excuses rather than greetings, or both. All his work to kindle that fire of love that had entrapped him on Chen's island was for naught; in the time he'd neglected it, it was doused, although not completely put out, if the fact that she was telling him to order without a menu was anything to go by.

Speaking of, the Alan boy arrived again, dropping the bedraggled menu between his forearms. Kai continued to stare at Skylor's back, noting the stiffness of it, the elevation of her shoulders. Yes, he was certain, there still lurked a flame in there. It was small, but not a lost cause. He just had to find a way to fan it, to wow her into wanting to continue fighting for a friendship, and perhaps, something more.

But how was he to do that? Skylor wasn't a woman so easily impressed. What had really gotten her going for him when they first met was his willingness to trust her, to befriend her in spite of her betrayal, and he doubted that sort of action would work this time. No, he needed something more straightforward.

"Alan," he turned to the disgruntled waiter, "How long have you worked here?"

"Since last year," Alan muttered with all the sweetness of sour grapes.

"So you've worked closely with Skylor?"

The boy shrugged.

"Do you know of anything that really... _impressed_ her? That made her speechless with wonder?"

Kai hadn't expected an answer, not a serious one, at least, but Alan's expression changed, going from dead to intrigued as a certain memory passed through his mind.

"There was this one time..."

Kai leaned forward, turning when Alan pointed to the blackboard in the back of the restaurant.

"That guy, Cole Brookstone, he came in one Saturday night about a month ago and broke the record for most amount of noodles eaten in under an hour. Never seen anyone so in awe. It was insane!"

Kai suddenly remembered a certain Sunday where Cole had spent half the day running through the streets of Ninjago and refusing to eat anything other than two peanuts and a gummy worm. "And Skylor was impressed?"

"Ha!" Alan shook his head, smiling for the first time since Kai had known him, "She was _floored!_ We all were, really. He ate seven plates. _Seven_ plates, full of noodles. He didn't even stop. It was so beautiful it was practically a sin," Alan's grin grew, "And when he was done, he _still_ had room for dessert! He tipped me twenty bucks."

"Huh," Kai said. He looked at the chalkboard. He looked at Skylor, who was making a point to avoid his table. She'd been floored, had she? He wondered how impressed she'd be if that record was broken, say, tonight?

"Alan, my friend," Kai handed his menu away, "Get me a plate of noodles, and set a timer. I'm breaking that record."

* * *

The idea of eating at least seven plates of noodles was alone daunting, but upon seeing the size of each platter, Kai was ready to walk out and spend the rest of the night shoving corn chips into his face in front of a television set.

 _But,_ he reminded himself as he took his first bite, _A ninja never quits. No matter how ridiculous the challenge._

He wasn't ready to quit on Skylor.

Alan told the other waiters of his task, and Kai found them walking past his table now and then, whispering excitedly or slipping in comments as they glided by. Skylor was never one of them.

He managed to shovel down two plates within the first fifteen minutes, breaking the record for the fastest time noodles have been consumed, but his luck stopped there. By the time a half hour had passed, he'd barely started his fourth plate. Those that had witnessed Cole devour seven plates were shaking their heads, wearing smiles that said, "No, Kai, you aren't going to be able to do this." No, Kai, you need to give up.

With each bite threatening to come back up again, Kai began to consider the prospect. In fact, downtrodden, he nearly stood to throw in the towel, until he spotted Skylor watching him from the restaurant's entrance, looking concerned. This proved a stroke of strength, for he began shoveling noodles in with a new sense of enthusiasm.

 _I'll finish for you,_ thought he.

At fifty minutes he swallowed the final bite from the sixth plate. His eyes watered as he tried to keep from gagging. He couldn't eat any more; he'd surely spew it all back out.

"You finish this," said Alan as he set the seventh plate in front of him, "all you have to do is start the eighth plate, and you'll have beaten the record."

Afraid to open his mouth, Kai gave a thumbs up. Inhaling, he began scooping more noodles into his mouth, regretting every decision he ever made over the course of his life. By now the waiters and several customers had given up on their own meals in favor of watching him torture himself. They chatted excitedly as the clock ticked away. Kai heard some of them taking bets: whether he'd break or conquer. While he hoped he'd win the latter, he had a feeling it would be the former.

Between their arms and bodies, he saw Skylor fidgeting, not bothering to hide her growing concern, a fact that made Kai's heart smile despite his situation.

His bites were becoming slower and slower. He was certain he was going to vomit, if not now then later, and he wished he had thought to do a different challenge to impress his crush. The waiters began to cheer louder; there were enough noodles for three large bites, and the clock had only two minutes left. Alan already had an eighth plate loaded and ready for him. All he had to do was finish this plate and start that one, and the record was his.

"You can do it!" he heard them say, "You can do it!" Everyone was shouting now.

Kai couldn't do it. He hesitated with his next bite. If he ate anything else his stomach would pop right open. But he was so close, so close to beating the record, he couldn't give up now.

 _This is for Skylor,_ his mind repeated, _Do it for Skylor._ He lifted the next bite to his lips.

"Stop!"

He froze.

Skylor shoved her way through the congregation, shutting the timer off with a slam of her palm. "You're going to make yourself sick!" she said, harried, "That's enough. I don't—I don't want you spewing your guts out all over the table. Not in my restaurant."

Kai stared into her eyes, ignoring the shouts and angry groans of the crowd.

"No more eating," she said, "Bathroom is in the back." She spun on her heel and left, ignoring the complaints of Alan and his buddies.

Feeling a sour taste grow in the back of his throat, Kai slid out of the booth and disappeared into the men's room. _See you tomorrow,_ he thought bitterly. He never liked the taste of failure.

But a failure he was, indeed.

* * *

An hour later, the door to the men's room opened, followed by brisk footsteps. From the floor of the final stall, Kai moaned, "Occupied..."

To his surprise, Skylor's voice answered him, her voice amorous, "There are five stalls, Kai."

Kai straightened, pulling himself up with a grunt. Pulling the door aside, he peeked out of his stall, spotting Skylor leaning against an unnaturally clean sink. She was staring at him with a perplexed frown.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

Kai didn't answer right away, "This...is the men's room."

"It's my restaurant. Now answer my question."

At first Kai wondered if he should make an excuse so he could save face, but the longer he stared at her, the more his ego faded. At last, he sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't contact you more often over the past few months. I'd every intention of doing so, but other things just kept happening, one right after the other, and—I was stupid. I should have made more of an effort to speak with you. You're my friend, an important one," he met her gaze, "I know you're mad, so I thought, if I could impress you by doing something epic, you might accept an invitation to go on a date or something. At the very least, give me another chance to keep...in touch."

Skylor huffed out a laugh, "That's why you tried to kill yourself out there?" she continued to giggle.

A faint blush dusted Kai's cheeks, and he couldn't help but share her laughter, "Yeah...the Alan boy told me you were floored when you saw Cole do it, so I figured if I did it—"

"I would be impressed enough to talk to you again?"

Kai nodded, causing Skylor to snicker, "The only reason I was so impressed then was because I'd never before met a person who had three stomachs."

Kai snorted.

"That being said," her eyes began to twinkle, making his heart flutter, "I admire the lengths you went to to try and rekindle our friendship. You must care a lot about me."

"Yeah...I mean—" he couldn't back down now, "Yeah...yeah, I do."

Skylor beamed, "In that case, you have permission to ask me on a date."

The sentence sent his mind reeling, leaving him unable to stop the sappy grin from leaking onto his face. "Would you want to meet for lunch this Sunday? Maybe pack a picnic?"

The idea was silly, but Skylor's smile only grew, "I'd like that a lot."

Kai had to refrain from jumping for joy, "Great! That's great! I'll see you then?"

"Certainly," Skylor bent away from the sink and began heading for the door, "By the way, you might want to go home; we've been closed for about ten minutes now." With that, she left.

Standing alone in the public bathroom, his stomach stretched and diaphragm in discomfort, Kai decided with a happy little jump that everything that had happened tonight had been worth it.

End.


	3. Faded Smiles

**Summary: Garmadon finds an old photo.**

 **I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

It wasn't often Garmadon allowed lights in his tent. They had a tendency to hurt him. As a creature of darkness, too much time spent in where he didn't belong had, predictably, a significant effect on him. His skin would peel, his eyes would burn, and his head would hurt so much he'd have to lie down for several hours.

If forced to be in anywhere other than shadow for the majority of the day, he made it a rule to have at least six hours of untainted darkness to wallow in until he recovered. That meant that there would be no lights in his tent; not even the faintest of sun rays would be allowed to pierce through the shadows.

Tonight, however, a single candle frightened darkness into far corners and crannies, the flame flickering to and fro upon a small table. Garmadon sat at this table, just to the right of the flame, one of four arms resting beside it. In his hand, he held an old, scratched photograph.

Outside, the shouts and groans of the Stone Army filled the air as they worked the night away, but Garmadon paid no mind to them. They were puppets; Garmadon hardly noticed their presence anymore. Tonight, it was unlikely anything would be of notice to him.

Whenever Garmadon languished, he would all but fade out of existence as he lost himself in thought. It wasn't often he allowed himself to do this, anymore. Bringing himself back was always a painful process, and it was the kind of pain that made him want to gauge open his eyes so that the jelly dripped down his face.

But tonight, try as he might, he couldn't help himself. He had found the photo quite by accident; it had been stuffed not too kindly into a little pocket hidden in the breast of his armor. When he'd taken it out, he had the vague memory of putting it there several years ago, shortly after he had turned into what he was now.

It was one of two things he kept from his time as a human man. The other was his wedding ring, which he still wore, all scorched and warped from when he tried to burn it, on his finger. The only difference was that he hadn't meant to keep this at all.

The photo depicted his younger self staring at the camera with a smile on his face, his wife in his arm and his baby in her hands. Even now, Garmadon could see the tired wrinkles forming around his eyelids, the shadows under his crimson eyes, the stretched far too wide smile showing his sharpening teeth. But he could also see the little sparkle of laughter in his pupils, one that showed the camera that he thought the world had been good to him, even with all his toils with the Devourer's venom. One that showed that this man still had hope.

Garmadon released a breath. A strange man, this was. His eyes turned to his wife, whose smile was smaller, more reserved. Garmadon could see the grey strands snaking through her hair, even though the photo had faded almost to brown. She greyed early; he always wondered whether it came from raising a rambunctious baby boy, or from taking care of a husband whose identity was rapidly deteriorating into the monster he'd been taught he'd become. Not one to hope for anything anymore, Garmadon had a feeling it was the latter.

He sighed, remembering the day she disappeared, taking their baby with her. That was the first time since he was small that he'd cried. He looked at the final face in the picture.

Little Lloyd was hardly larger than a teddy bear, winking at his surroundings with that grumpy face all newborns seemed to carry after birth. He wasn't looking at the camera, rather, he was looking at what Garmadon knew was his Uncle Wu, who had been off camera trying to make the baby smile.

The ghost of a laugh rose inside Garmadon, but the most he could do was exhale slightly harder than normal. Lloyd was so small then, so innocent, so unaware of how the world was falling apart around him. Looking at the child in the picture, Garmadon could scarcely believe the little boy with just a tuft of blond hair would become the enemy destined to destroy him in the final battle between good and evil.

Although, it would figure the one person he cared the most about would be the one to defeat him. It was just another stake in his heart, after all. Just another name on the list of people he had to let go of.

Their faces ran through his mind slowly, as if on a slideshow, _the elemental masters...Wu...Misako..._

Friends...family. All of them gone, in some way or another. All of them, the man in the photo used to know, used to speak with on a day to day basis. What would they think of him now?

He knew what Wu thought, if the fact that he was training his own son to defeat him was anything to go by. Garmadon felt the need to spit. Wu, as if dooming him to a life of misery wasn't enough, was the person stringing the bow, and Lloyd was the arrow he would fire.

Unless, of course, it was Garmadon who defeated Lloyd, instead of the other way around. A harsher laugh escaped him this time. He should be so dumb as to believe that.

If it were he who won the battle between good in evil, he'd be able to rebuild this wretched land into his image. Everyone who'd ever mocked him, who ever ostracized him from their golden society, who ever called him a monster would be no different than him. They'd be mindless, merely the host of an evil parasite, but they would be relatively harmless. No cruel, ardent words could escape the mouth of a person who no longer thought, no longer harbored hateful secrets. No brother could knowingly turn his son into a tool to use against him.

And that was another thing, wasn't it? If Garmadon won, Lloyd would be his once more. He could have a family again. A shiver twisted its way up Garmadon's spine. Could he even hope for that now?

He stared at the photo, his eyes unmoving, unblinking. When it was taken, Garmadon had hope. He had hope that this family he'd been blessed with, this family that he created, would be able to save him from this fate. That so long as he lived with them, he would remain a good person, and this 'final battle' would never exist.

Anger tore through Garmadon's gut. The man in the picture spent the rest of his days believing an impossible fantasy. What a stupid, stupid man. His fingers shook as he gripped the photo tighter. He was no different from the man in the photo if he believed he would win this battle. He didn't want to be that man. Not anymore. That man lived a life of pain, one that Garmadon didn't want to share any longer.

His eyes drifted to the candle, and, dead to the world, he lifted his hand and held the photo over the flame. It took a few seconds to ignite. The man's head went up first, blackening like he had in real life before the fiery red line bent its way over the rest of the photo. When he was certain the flame had caught, he placed the photo on the table and watched it until it turned to a pile of black ash. It was only when the flames burnt away Lloyd's sweet face did he feel the barest trace of regret.

He kept his expression resigned as he poked through the soot. He knew, even now, that destroying the photo wouldn't change anything. As he grew aware of the sounds of the Stone Army outside, he wondered. He wondered why he was even doing this, if he knew he'd only perish.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he resisted crying out, screaming. Instead, he chuckled sourly, knowing that the differences between himself and the man in the picture really were limited to just appearance. Even now, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he had hope. Hope that he'd be able to have a family again.


	4. Tastes Like Revenge

**Summary: Kai is forced to eat Cole's cooking.**

 **Requested by RandomDragon.**

 **I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

"Hey."

Jay tilted his head towards the voice that had spoken, but he didn't take his eyes away from the television as he pounded his thumbs into the controller's buttons.

"Hey," said the voice again, "Hey, Jay!"

"What?" he responded, frowning as he was sieged by a contingent of crocodile men.

Cole flopped over the back of the couch, grinning, "You want to see something gross?"

An explosion knocked Jay's avatar over, dropping his health into the danger zone, "Aaugh—uh, yeah I do, but could you give me like, three seconds while I—argh!" a crocodile man appeared from nowhere, and Jay scrambled to fend him off.

"I can't wait," said Cole, swinging his legs onto the cushion, "We're about to leave."

With an impressive string of combos, Jay pulled apart the croc by the jaw. He cheered, and Cole reached over and paused the game.

"Hey!" after what must have been at least two hours of gaming, Jay finally tore his eyes away from the screen.

Cole grinned at him from on top of the couch, snarky and proud, "Do you want to see something gross _now?"_

"Yeah, fine. Keep your pants on." Jay sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

Cole just smirked before rolling up the legs of his sweatpants until they bunched past his knees, leaving them exposed. The sight made Jay recoil in horror.

"Ew!"

Cole laughed.

The knees were mottled with large, dark bruises, starting at the shins and ending at the thigh. It was horrific, and the longer they looked, the grosser they became. They were tinged different colors, the newest red, the oldest a sickly yellow.

Jay forced a gag and batted them away from his face. "You're disgusting. You know that, right?"

Cole chortled and leaned against the armrest, sliding his pants back down. "They're awful, I know. They hurt like the dickens, too."

"How'd they get that bad?" Jay said with a snicker, stretching.

"This is all from ice skating," as if on cue, Cole reached over and pulled his skates out from underneath the sofa.

"But I thought you'd gotten better?"

"I have!" Cole insisted, indignant, "It takes me a while to bruise, so this is all from a couple of weeks ago," he got up and headed for the door, grabbing his favorite beanie and sliding into his shoes, "I can do lots of things now: spins, jumps. It's fun. You should come along; you'd have a good time."

Jay hummed, standing to stretch his legs. Boy, did that feel nice after several hours.

"You could come along now if you want," said Cole as he slid on his gloves, "Zane won't mind."

"Nah, man," Jay smirked, "Kai and I are going to see a sci-fi movie down at Ninjago's Imperial Theatre, then we're going to get pizza at the arcade."

"Oh," Cole let out a wry smile, "Yeah, you _never_ do that on a Saturday night."

"Cut me a break," Jay laughed, "I haven't done this with Kai in a long time."

This much was true. Since Kai started seeing Skylor again, he'd spent more time with her than most anyone else. Jay didn't mind that so much as he just missed spending time with his friend, so he'd specifically arranged this night for the two of them.

Kai promised he'd come, had crossed his heart. As such, Jay wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Well, maybe next Saturday," Cole opened the door and smiled, "I gotta go. I'll see you later, Blue Bell."

"Boulder brains," Jay dismissed as folded his arms. He certainly would have fun tonight. More fun than he'd had with Kai in a while. Checking the time on his watch, Jay scurried away to search for some pants. He would be late if he didn't hurry.

* * *

The movie started at six o'clock on the dot, a decent time to watch the movie and still have dinner at a reasonable hour.

It was 6:23.

Jay tapped his foot and drummed his fingers against the bench outside the theatre's entrance. Three missed calls and twenty-seven messages later, Kai still hadn't responded. Earlier, Jay tried making excuses as to why his friend would be so late, but after a while, the simple but all telling explanation of, "Traffic was _horrible_!" made less and less sense.

Especially since Kai would be walking.

So where was he?

At first, Jay felt hurt. The first night in months they'd the chance to hang out together, and Kai wasn't here? The dirtbag!

But then a terrible though struck Jay. What if something horrible happened to Kai? Surely the only reason he wasn't here was because he was under attack, in danger, kidnapped.

Jay stood, deciding that was the reason. Picking a street, Jay started down it, searching the alleys for his missing friend. Kai must be down one of them, beat up and dirty, because he wouldn't just ditch Jay.

No, he wouldn't.

* * *

At 10:02, Jay sludged through the Bounty's cabin door, downtrodden and soaked to the bone. The better half of the evening was spent on a wild goose chase, and to top it off, it started raining on his way back. It wasn't bad at first, but after several minutes of light showers, the bottom fell out, and the sky was pouring in a matter of seconds. It would figure he was on the other side of the city when this happened.

It was a bad night already, but it got worse when Jay entered the living room, finding Kai slouched across the sofa like a king. In the armchair sat Zane, and on the floor next to him sat Cole. All three of their expressions indicated they knew exactly what was up.

"Jay!" said Kai, sitting up straight, "Are you—erm," he folded his hands, looking him over as the tops of his ears colored red, "I...I am terribly sorry. I completely forgot to meet you tonight."

"Uh, no kidding!" Jay burst, throwing his hands into the air and tossing his ballcap—which, by the way, offered no protection against the rain—to the floor, "Where were you? I thought you'd gotten in trouble! We've been planning this day for the past two weeks!"

"I know!" Kai was tense now, half standing as he pleaded at Jay, "But listen—I was going to, I even told myself yesterday, but today I ran into Skylor—"

"You were with Skylor!" anger was replaced by hurt, and Jay dropped into a chair with a noticeable 'squish.'

Cole reached for him.

"And you!" desperate to remain angry, Jay turned to his other teammates, "Why didn't you tell me Kai was here instead of leaving me to run around in the rain?"

"We," Cole glanced at Zane, "We literally just walked in."

Upon further inspection, Jay did see how both boys were also wet and still wearing their footwear, so he opted to look away instead. He didn't want them to see how upset he really was. He also thought he wasn't succeeding in this endeavor.

"Jay," Kai leaned over and peered into his eyes, trying to see if his friend was crying.

Jay turned further away, twisting his neck in an almost comical way.

"I'm so sorry."

Jay's neck muscles strained as they twisted past the point they were supposed to.

"I promise I'll make it up to you."

He shifted to lessen the pull on his neck. Through his peripheral vision, Jay saw Kai give a look to his fellow friends before clasping his hands and sighing.

"Please, Jay, let me make it up to you. I'll do anything!"

That got Jay's attention. He turned and faced his friend, his eyebrow quirked. Anything, he said?

"Anything?"

Kai took a cautious step back, realizing at once the weight of his words. Behind him, Cole grinned and Zane leaned forward, intrigued.

"Almost...anything."

Jay furrowed his brow. He'll be the first to admit there's no way he could stay angry at Kai forever, but he didn't want to admit as much. He had Kai in a...unique situation, to say the least. Anything, he'd said. Jay smiled.

He couldn't remain angry, perhaps, but he could make Kai pay.

"Alright, Kai," he drawled, "You want to make it up to me? Here's what you've got to do..."

* * *

The smell of something burning escaped the kitchen as Jay walked inside the following day. For once, he welcomed the smell, inhaling as he stepped inside.

"Hello, hello!" sang Jay with a wave and a grin, "How is my happy little chef and his charming assistant?"

Zane looked nettled at the term, 'assistant,' but he pulled a thin lipped smile and a thumbs up anyway.

Cole still looked pouty, "Is my cooking _really_ this bad?" he said as he dumped an entire can of lard into a bowl of cherries and ground beef. Zane's fingers twitched.

"Of course not!" Jay walked up and patted his friend on the back, sending clouds of flour floating through the air, "You just keep going, okay?" he looked around, "Are the first few dishes ready?"

Cole nodded, despondent.

"Perfect!" Jay clapped, an evil grin lightening his face, "Zane, prepare your camera, we're going to make Kai _pay."_

As they left the kitchen, Zane leaned in close and said, "I do not know what goes through Cole's head when he cooks, but I hope you appreciate how much I kept quiet in there. Kai's in for a wild ride."

Jay's response was simple and glad, "Excellent."

Kai sat waiting for them in the dining room, looking drop-dead dazzling in his bright yellow cheerleading uniform, an outfit picked out especially for him earlier that morning. Jay laughed at the look on his face.

"Oh Kai!" he greeted, "Are you ready to eat?"

Zane moved to sit on the opposite end of the table. While he had the decency to look slightly apologetic, even he couldn't stop the little smile of anticipation that graced his face.

"You're filming this?" growled Kai, looking to Jay, "You're a sadist, did you know that?"

Jay laughed, placing another plate in a series on the table. Sliding over a saucer, he said, "Get ready, traitor. You're in for a treat!" moving to Kai's shoulder, he said to the camera, "We'll be starting you off small, with a dish I call, Pickles and Peanut Butter, a refined sandwich for only the grossest of human scum."

Smiling down on Kai's head, he finished off with a punch to the shoulder. "So get cracking, buddy!"

For the first time, Kai's expression changed from heated to agitated, "Who're you even filming this for?" he poked at the sandwich.

"Stop stalling!" demanded Jay.

Lips pursed into a disgusted twist, Kai picked up the sandwich, giving it a sniff. He coughed. Jay knew Kai wasn't fond of pickles, but ever looking out for his pride, Kai looked straight at him and took an enormous bite. As he chewed, his brow furrowed. Jay leaned forward in anticipation.

"Well?"

Kai swallowed and took a sip from a glass of water Jay let him have in an act of mercy. "It's," he began, "Not bad, in fact," he stuck his chin out defiantly as he gave Jay a look of pure spite, "It's actually pretty good."

Jay heard a distinct, "HA!" from behind the kitchen door, but he knew Kai was lying through his teeth. Hopefully. He just brushed aside the plate, excusing, "Well, duh! I'm starting you off _easy._ We'll get to the gross stuff in time."

He received two responses, both expressing the same sentiments. One groan came from Kai, the other from inside the kitchen.

The next dish was an infamous dish known as Cole's Waffle Pizza, something that wasn't as delicious as it sounded. The first time Cole made it, the team learned quickly that maple syrup and marinara sauce did not mix. This didn't explain Kai's current reaction, which seemed to be almost enjoyment.

"Dude!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of waffle, "Cole might need to make this again, because this is _great!"_

"Oh shut up," Jay pulled the dish away, his upper lip curling. Kai was mocking him at this point. Two could play at that game, however.

The following dish was the first of Cole's Jay ever tried, and it was the very meal that convinced him never to eat his friend's cooking if he could help it. It was hard to ruin something like stew, but Cole insisted that Beer and Beef Stew was actually delicious. Jay thought it might work if Zane cooked it, but Cole always went overboard with the key ingredient:

"Argh!"

Jay's face lit up.

Kai grimaced, sucking in his cheeks, "Man, that's bitter!"

"I know," Jay nodded. Beer was like that. The recipe only called for a few teaspoons, at most, but Jay once spotted Cole dumping in an entire bottle.

The next dish was something Jay knew was terrible, because when it came to spices, Cole had no limits. Why a peach pie would need peppers was a question that bugged him to no end, but today Jay appreciated his friend's bizarre thought process.

Kai not so subtly dabbed his napkin across his forehead, pausing to take a sip of water.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Jay.

Kai's response was a murderous look that made Jay sit back, disgruntled. Gone was the snark that had bounced back and forth between the two of them, replaced only by anger. That confused him, considering that Kai had specifically agreed to do anything to make it up to Jay.

He just slid over another dish.

But was this really making it up? Jay had to admit, the more he watched the less enthused he became. Kai was clearly in pain, Zane had lost his initial interest, and Cole was out of it from the start. Jay scratched at the nape of his neck. Kai managed to push through the dish with little more than a displeased look and some difficulty chewing, and he pulled up the next plate, gagging as he did so.

A stab of pity shot through his stomach, and Jay sighed. It was settled, he'd gotten cold feet. Why was he filming this anyway? That was just cruel. He didn't want to make his friend suffer—well, suffer for a long, _long_ time—but how could he call off the challenge now, without losing any of his pride?

"This tastes worse than Nya's feet," muttered Kai as he swallowed a bite. At Jay and Zane's questioning gaze, Kai answered, "I was five, she was two. She could still stick her feet in her mouth, and I wondered if they tasted good."

"Oh."

A beat passed as Kai picked over his food. Then Jay stood, "I'm going to check on our lovely chef."

He stamped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, shoulders hunched. He hoped Cole would notice his obvious distress and make him feel better, but Cole was ticked with him, as well.

"Don't worry," flouted the ninja of earth, "I'm still cooking my _awful_ meals for Kai to eat."

Jay braced himself and leaned in close, "I don't want to do this anymore."

Cole looked at him, expression lightening, "Really?"

He nodded, "He's learned his lesson. I don't want to watch him suffer anymore. I was planning on going until he threw up, but I'm not cut out for that."

"So tell him!" said Cole, dropping his spatula at once, "Just go up and explain that he's done!"

"But then he won't learn!"

"Won't learn what?"

"Not to stand me up!" Jay folded his arms, "We were planning that night for two weeks! And he goes and spends the evening with _Skylor?_ Not cool. If I'm the one who lets him off the hook, what's to stop him from doing it again?"

Cole looked down at his pan of burning zucchini fritters, "You know he's better than that."

Outside, they heard Kai gag as a particularly gross taste or texture fouled his tongue. Jay sighed, rubbing at his eyelids.

"Look," he said, "Just make him three more meals, as gross or delicious as you like. Then we'll call it quits."

Cole ruffled his brow and looked away, begrudgingly snatching the spatula back up again. Trying not to feel worse than he did, Jay returned to the table, meeting an equally sour expression from an equally—if not more—angry friend. At least now, he noticed, Zane had discreetly put away the camera.

"Okay," he griped, "Lucky for you, you don't have much left. I hope you've learned your lesson."

Kai snorted and turned away.

The next meal was, to Jay's surprise, delivered straight from the kitchen by Cole himself, slapped down onto the table with a bitter force. Then Cole stood back and folded his arms, making no move to return to cooking. Jay chose not to comment on this as Kai took his first bite.

Roughly ten minutes later, Jay was thinking about throwing in the towel right then, when he noticed Kai beginning to act strange. His friend had gone pale, and he was gasping. Jay frowned, then shrank back when Kai coughed and gagged.

Kai stood, holding a hand over his mouth and racing towards the bathroom. Retching followed, and Jay stood, blood draining.

"Oh dear," said Zane.

"Jay."

At Cole's call, Jay turned to meet a stern glare and a posture not to be reckoned with.

"He's thrown up now. Now go in there and fix this, you loon."

Jay didn't argue. With a nod, he followed Kai into the bathroom, finding him slumped over the toilet. Though struck with guilt, he hesitated to pat his friend on the back. After some awkward silence, he settled with two light strokes.

"H-hey there," he said with a nervous giggle, "uh...s-sorry about that. How're you feeling?"

Kai retched some more, spitting into the toilet. Jay swallowed, trying to calm his own stomach.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have done this. I was just so angry—"

"No," Kai held up a hand and turned his head slightly to the side, "I should have met with you. I should have remembered."

"Yeah, but—"

"Skylor had opened up a new restaurant that day. She was so excited, I wanted to celebrate, and I completely forgot about you," he paused and spit again, "And clearly, I should not have done that."

The baseball bat that had been repeatedly hitting Jay with guilt suddenly had barbed wire wrapped around the end of it, "Oh," he said, "Well, I need to apologize, too. I created this task when I was still angry, and I think I made it unspeakably cruel as a result."

Kai reached up and flushed the toilet, using his skirt to wipe his mouth, "Call it even?" he said, offering a hand to shake.

Jay felt a grin warm his face. He took the hand, "Of course!"

Several hours later, when he alone finished washing every dish they'd dirtied that day, Jay noticed a mysterious black bottle on the counter, half hidden behind the jar of utensils. Tossing aside a dish towel, Jay grabbed the bottle and skimmed the label.

" _Syrup of Ipecac,"_ it read. While Jay had never heard of the syrup, he did recall seeing this very item in the team's medicine cabinet next to a bag of cough drops. The bottle was halfway empty and had no business being here, in the kitchen of all places.

Concern growing, Jay called, "Cole?"

His friend appeared from the living room, confused until he saw the bottle held aloft in Jay's hand. Then his expression changed; he was alert, defensive. His eyes searched Jay's, until he said at last, "Okay, so I might have snuck some vomit-inducing slime into Kai's food, alright? How else was the torture going to end, huh?"

"Cole," Jay started to retort, but turned away, placing the bottle on the counter, "You sly bastard."

"Hey," Cole shrugged, "It worked, didn't it? You and Kai kissed and made up, and you finally got to hang out. It was two birds with one stone!"

Jay shook his head, exasperated, but smiling anyway. After Kai finished spewing his guts into the toilet, Jay had gotten him a cool glass of water, which lead to an amiable conversation, which lead again to plans to hang out immediately afterwards. The afternoon was spent playing video games together until Cole came in and made it clear that he wasn't going to be the one who cleaned up the dishes. That brought them to the present, where Jay sat tired, but content.

"Yeah, I guess things did work out okay."

* * *

 **And only Zane was innocent.**

 **FYI, the way the syrup of Ipecac was used in this story was not the way it is meant to be used in real life. Ipecac is an over the counter drug meant to provide a safe way for someone to throw up, should they need to (it is only to be used if one's contracted food poisoning or if you've swallowed some non-corrosive poisons). Not that this story is meant to be taken seriously (I mean, look at the source material), but just know that the way ipecac was used here was very inaccurate and wasn't even ingested correctly.**


	5. Her Mission

**Summary: Skylor was given a mission, and she was going to stick to it, whether she wanted to or not.**

 **Requested by skylor chan.**

 **I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

When Chen wanted something, he was going to have it. Years of putting up with his erratic and downright spastic behavior had hardened Skylor into accepting this, despite the flawed logic. It didn't matter where, when, or who was in the way, Chen's desires would be so.

With no sense in arguing, when he told her with a manic gleam in his eye, "I want the powers of every elemental master in Ninjago!" she didn't protest. When he said she would be the key to the success of this plan, she didn't give it a second thought.

He said, "Go to the boat, to the mainland. Befriend them. Earn their trust."

At this command, her heart lifted. She wasn't allowed off the island, let alone the mainland, and that fact alone kept the weight of guilt from bearing on her as she sailed towards her father's victims.

He said, "You and I will be the most powerful rulers who ever crossed Ninjago! Just be sure not to reveal our secrets!"

"Of course, Father," said she.

For the time until she was to return to the docks, she strode happily through Ninjago's finest sights. She spent most of her time in the city, gazing up at buildings and people she'd only witnessed in fantasies. For a while, she forgot of her father's plans, of the lives she was about to ruin. Instead she pretended she was a regular person, who'd lived here all her life, free from her father and their sins.

He said, "Just reel them in. Make it so they can't refuse. And remember," Chen spoke in a voice almost like a normal man, the closest he could be to sounding like he cared, "when the time comes, I'll have to take your power, too. Can you handle that?"

"Of course, Father."

The time to return came all too soon, and Skylor found herself the first to appear on the dock, her heart and bones cold and hollow in her warmest jacket. Other faces joined her, elemental masters blind to the ulterior motives of Chen's challenge. They were clueless to the fate that awaited them on the island, and in a brief moment of sympathy, Skylor wished she could warn them, scream that once they boarded the boat, they'd never be coming back.

But she was silent.

On the island, Chen had spoken of a team of ninja, like the one they'd reconstructed in his dungeons, who wielded the most powerful elements in Ninjago; the core elements, he said.

Fire, earth, lightning, ice, and, of course, the powers of the Green ninja. Ice was Chen's, and had been for some time, now, but the rest...

"Focus on them," he said, "Without them, we'll be defeated."

She spotted them immediately. They were younger than she expected, and as suspicious as they were solemn. Her father said he lured them in a different manner than everyone else; she suspected it had something to do with their captive nindroid.

They were hardly older than she.

Chen wanted her to befriend them, to weaken them from inside. As she stared at them, and their sad, angry faces, she couldn't bear the thought of it.

When the ninja first began taking Ninjago by storm, Skylor would dream that they'd rescue her from the madness of Chen. They defeated villain after villain, and Chen was certainly a villain in her eyes.

She'd long since abandoned the idea. Chen's voice was just too loud in her ear; it blocked out all other thoughts. Now she would be a villain in the ninja's many plights, the key that would lead to their destruction.

Her father's voice shouted into her ears as Skylor skulked at the edge of the boat, on the side that faced the island, her prison. Behind her, she heard the voices of the ninja and their master, the old man who'd come aboard even after admitting to knowing the dangers.

Chen's voice wouldn't leave her alone, telling her, "Go on! Go on! Speak to them! Remember your mission!"

She wondered how much longer she could allow herself to forget. The answer came in the form of another man, the master of metal in his angry demand for her jacket.

She told him to back off; she told the master of fire she could handle herself, but neither man backed down. She watched, stuck dumb as the elemental masters brawled before her eyes, one in the name of anger, the other in respect. It was a little boggling, seeing someone fight for her, especially after all the years of fighting for herself alone. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't grow a size or two.

But still, Chen's voice rang in her ear, telling her, "Remember the mission! No one could ever care this much about you, especially not once they start to _lose._ "

Of course. The tournament. Skylor stared at the master of fire as he proceeded to get thoroughly tossed around the boat. She admired his nerve, misguided as it was. It would serve him well. With a punch from the metal man—Karloff, she recalled—the master of fire came sailing towards her, screeching and landing with a thud near her feet.

"No one could ever love you," said Chen, "You're the one bringing them go to their demise."

The villain in her saw an opportunity present itself as she watched the boy at her feet. A cool smile washed over her face as she leaned down and offered a hand to the fallen ninja.

"Hey," she said, her voice even and practiced, "I'm sorry if I was cold to you earlier."

As their hands touched, Skylor felt a powerful surge rush through her, and she knew, he was hers. They were one step closer to defeat. The side of her that held her heart shouted and screamed for her to stop, to warn the ninja while she had the chance, but with one swift thought, she silenced it, heeding instead to the voice of her father.

Skylor had a mission, and she was going to stick with it, whether she wanted to or not.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and have a marvelous day!**


	6. Six in a Bed is a Treat

**Summary: One cold night leaves the ninja desperate for Garmadon's heated blanket.**

 **This story is inspired in part by a scene from an episode of _The Golden Girls._ While I'll maintain that a lot of this is original thought, I own nothing.**

* * *

 _Damn those snakes._

Lloyd cast a worried glance at Kai's bed, hoping his overbearing but loving friend wouldn't hear his thoughts. Kai shook his bunk with his shivers, back facing Lloyd and oblivious to the vulgar language running through his head. More certain now that nothing would happen, Lloyd thought them again.

 _Damn those snakes._

Kai wasn't shivering alone; within each bunk, a ninja quavered and curled in on themselves, blankets wrapped around them in a flimsy cocoon. Yes, damn those snakes and everything they stood for.

They'd attacked that afternoon, catching the ninja at a vulnerable time. Wear and tear had worn their ship's thrusters thin, forcing them to land and fix this issue. That was when an arrow imbedded itself in the planking near Jay's ear, marking the beginning of an ambush. While they escaped unharmed, most of their utilities had been knocked out. Namely, they had no running water or heat.

"We'll have to fix it tomorrow," Nya said earlier that evening, "There's not enough light left in the day to do it now. We'll be alright for the night."

The temperatures were well below freezing, inside and out. Lloyd's shoulders quaked as he wrapped his useless blanket about himself. It was easy for Nya to wait a night; she'd one of three heated blankets on the ship. Wu and Garmadon had the others.

Lloyd pondered a moment of stealing one of the blankets for himself, but then another, better thought struck him. Garmadon was staying in the spare room, and Garmadon was his father. That meant Lloyd was just as entitled to the blanket, right? The longer he thought about this, the more correct it seemed.

He eyed his teammates' backs with an air of sympathy before scrambling out of bed and racing through the hallway. The cold air whistled and bit at him on all sides, to the point where he was sure he'd never feel warm again. His teeth were chattering by the time he reached his father's room.

Garmadon slept with his back to the door, shoulders curled even with the blanket, which was turned almost to its maximum setting. Lloyd hesitated at first, but ultimately dove into the bed and under the covers.

The heat that enveloped him was so strong and pleasant Lloyd let out a little sigh in spite of his better judgment. He snuggled close into his dad's back, inhaling. In this instant, for just a moment, he imagined himself a small child again, partaking in a moment he never would have beheld otherwise. It was oddly peaceful.

At least, until his father awoke and ruined it.

"Not tonight, Misako," he spoke in a sleepy groan, "I've been training all day."

Lloyd froze, suddenly wide awake, "Dad, it's _Lloyd."_

A silence, then, "Hm?"

Lloyd scooted a little ways back, "Mom's at the monastery."

Garmadon turned ever so slightly, staring at him from behind one sleepy eyelid. He blinked twice before something appeared to register, "Oh," he breathed, turning his face back towards the pillows, "Sorry, I felt your hands on my back and thought it was your mom trying to sneak up on me."

Lloyd wrinkled his nose, "Well, it's just me. Is...," he hesitated to say his next question, "Is that alright with you?"

"Of course, son. It's cold."

The response made Lloyd happier than he cared to admit, and in response, he proceeded to snuggle as close as he could, burrowing in the nook between the mattress and his father's shoulder. He tried absorbing as much of this as he could, from the warmth to the bizarre basil scent Garmadon always seemed to carry. He wanted to remember it, something so sweet that he never received as a child.

For a while he lay there, listening to his father breathe back into sleep, until he finally stopped shivering, and felt sleepiness begin to overcome him as well. As he drifted, a little smile quirked across his face. This turned out better than he could have hoped.

He might've fallen asleep right there, had not a thump disturbed the open doorway, forcing Lloyd to turn and assess the figure now silhouetted against the hallway light.

The distinct head of messy spikes revealed the figure to be Kai, who was freezing, and very, very, desperate, "Lloyd!" he called, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"What do you want?" Lloyd whispered. He tried keeping quiet for the sake of his father, but already Garmadon was stirring.

"Please!" Kai entered and approached the bed's side, "I'm so cold! Please let me join you! Nya won't let me near her stuff, and I'll never get any sleep if I have to stay in this godforsaken cold air—and you _know_ how cranky I get with no sleep—"

"No! Kai!" Lloyd spoke, "That decision isn't mine to make!"

"Nooo, please!" Kai's stare turned nearly manic, "You can't do this to me!"

Garmadon cleared his throat, turning back his head again, "Is that Kai?" he croaked.

Lloyd nodded, "He's cold too."

"Please!" Kai pleaded to Garmadon instead, "I won't take up much room—it's freezing out here. Please let me join you, c'mon, do it for your old pal's son's sake!"

Lloyd wasn't sure what part of the argument convinced Garmadon that this wonderful moment between father and son needed to include Kai, now, but it was with a resigned, "Alright," that Kai dove into the bed, sliding under the covers with an eagerness that rivaled his battle cry.

He released a massive sigh of pure pleasure, forcing Lloyd nearer into his father.

 _This can't be too bad_ , he tried telling himself.

Kai scooted closer, trying to absorb the warmth. This, Lloyd was thankful for, because as cold as Kai felt, his body was a natural furnace, heating up his other side as Kai turned close. He couldn't deny it was strange to have his father on one side and his best friend on the other, but he decided that for a night as cold as this, he'd be willing to accept whatever they had to do to keep warm. Kai was squirmy at first, but he eventually settled down. For five minutes, all was peaceful.

Then another silhouette appeared in the doorway, "Hey!" called Cole.

"Good grief," Garmadon groaned.

"Can I join?"

Lloyd grunted as Garmadon sat up, "How cold are you, exactly?"

"Freezing," Cold had a foot bent behind the other, and his hands clamped under his armpits.

Lloyd spoke next, noting the size of the bed, "Can't you go find Sensei Wu?"

Cole gave him an incredulous look, "Lloyd, he sleeps on the _floor."_

Garmadon sighed and lay back down, "Sure, Cole, just—try and squeeze in."

Cole's gratitude was felt, if not said, as he clambered under the blanket. With a fourth person in their midst, everyone shifted down to make more room.

As Cole settled, he said through chattering teeth, "Does this blanket go any hotter?"

"If I turn it up any more," Garmadon began to sound snippy, "We'll be cooked lobsters by morning."

Cole was quiet, and once again, a peaceful silence settled over them. While Lloyd tried to recapture that moment of drowsy bliss that he had before Kai walked in, the feeling evaded him as yet another person appeared in the doorway. However, at this point, he couldn't call himself surprised.

"Hello," said Zane.

"Oh no," said Kai, "We can't. He's the ninja of ice."

Lloyd growled and Garmadon released another sigh.

"How dare you," said Zane, creeping closer and closer, "I can generate heat just as well as you can."

"It's okay, guys," said Cole, "There's room by me, Zane."

"No—" protested Kai.

Lloyd joined in, saying, "You can't just—"

Garmadon interrupted, nudging his son silent and gazing at the ninja of ice with a strange softness in his eyes, "How cold are you?"

"I'm always cold in the absence of my friends."

Lloyd liked Zane, but the thought of having yet another person join him and his father was enough to make him glower. This bed would be crowded with five people and one blanket, and Zane was capable of keeping himself warm, being a _robot_ and all. He hoped his dad would send Zane to Wu, or even Nya, and maybe send away Cole and Kai, while he was at it.

But then Garmadon said, "Okay. Come on in."

After a moment, they shifted down once more, each person squeezing into the next as the bed shrank before their eyes. Lloyd began to regret his decision to even come here at all.

"You're warm," Cole whispered, to who, no one knew.

"What do you expect," said Kai, cranky and sleepy, "I'm the ninja of _fire."_

Lloyd could feel the vibrations of Kai's breath on his back; they were so close together. He swallowed.

"I was talking to Zane."

"What?!"

"Could you all shut up?" Lloyd finally cracked, "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Hey," said Cole, "Just be thankful Jay isn't here yet. We might as well kiss sleep goodbye."

"Yet?"

"Indeed," Zane spoke, his voice muffling into the mattress he lay prone on, "When I woke up, I was the only one in the bedroom."

"Oh god, no."

Garmadon cleared his throat, snippiness returning as he sounded closer to being wide awake, "Boys, unless you all want to be kicked out of bed, I suggest you quiet down and go to sleep."

He received no response, for every ninja promptly clamped their mouths shut tight. There were a few moments where they shifted silently along the bed, and Lloyd became increasingly aware of Kai's knee driving further and further into his back, but eventually, everyone relaxed, warm and comfortable. After a few minutes, Lloyd felt his eyes grow heavy again, and with the sound of the heavy breaths of his drifting teammates, he began to fall back into the sleep he so desperately craved. He snuggled into his father's back, thankful at least that he was close to his dad.

Then he heard a noise. An awful noise.

From up above, several clogs and clammers were heard, some knocking against the floor, others against something metal. They continued for several minutes too long, and it was only the worry that Garmadon would kick him out of bed that kept him from groaning.

But then Kai whispered to Cole, "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah," Cole sounded groggy, as though he'd actually managed to fall asleep, "Methinks it may be Jay."

Zane released a soft, "Hush, now."

There was a a clang and a crash, then the sound of something turning on. Lloyd's heart lifted. Was that the heat?

A yell of horror was heard from above, followed by further thuds as whoever it was up there began to kick at something. It stopped suddenly with a cry of pain, the noise of what they hoped was the heat continuing all the while.

Kai whispered into his ear, "We should probably go check that out."

Glancing worriedly at his father's back, Lloyd murmured, "You can go, but there's no way I'm getting out from underneath this blanket."

"It could be an intruder."

"Then I'll die all nice and warm."

"...fair enough."

No one moved. The sounds had stopped, but still the heater droned on, blowing air through the ancient boards of the Bounty. Lloyd wondered how long it would take for the air to turn back to a pleasurable heat.

Suddenly, but not surprisingly, a figure's shadow dappled over the ninja's blanketed forms, this time not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter.

"Uh, guys?" came Jay, his voice at that ear-grating pitch it always reached when he was nervous, "We have a problem."

"What now?" someone barked.

"I was trying to fix the heat so we could get warm—"

"I knew he'd come," Cole moaned to himself, rubbing his palms across his eyelids.

"—and I thought I'd fixed it, but I think I may have worked on the wrong thing, because I didn't turn on the lights—"

"Jay," said Kai, "you idiot!"

"—and I've made a huge mistake!"

"There's a surprise," Lloyd turned back into his father's back, wondering if it were possible to fall asleep even with all this noise.

"You see, the air conditioner turned on."

Three voices shouted: Kai's, Cole's, and Zane's, "What?!"

"—and now it won't turn off."

Synonymous cries of horror were echoed through the room, cries that turned quickly to ones of anger:

"It's going to be colder inside than it is outside!" said Cole.

"Now what'll we do?"

"I tried to fix it—" Jay insisted, hopping around and rubbing his hands together, "but I think we'll just have to look at it tomorrow," he looked around as everyone continued to complain, "I'm really sorry, guys!"

"You ought to spend the rest of your evening in the cold," Zane declared, his tone as icy as the air was freezing.

Jay's face fell as everyone began to agree.

"You can take my blanket," Cole conceded, "And Kai's."

Kai didn't care for this, "You can't go volunteer my—"

"Enough!"

An emergence of Garmadon's old acrimony echoed through the air and shut the ninja up quite completely as he began to command, "There are only six more hours until the sun comes up, and I plan on sleeping for at least five of them. Jay, you can join us, but if I hear one more word out of any of you, so help me I'll banish you to your own beds!"

With that threat, everyone shifted down one last time as Jay squeezed in on the very edge of the bed, silent as a grave. The air conditioner droned on and on as time ticked past, and Lloyd became aware that it was the bedsheets alone that were keeping his father from hitting the floor. He gripped his father's nightshirt on the chance that he might go slipping, and he closed his eyes and willed for sleep to find him in this crowded and uncomfortable state.

Twenty minutes passed, each ninja shifting and sighing until, one by one, they all fell asleep.

* * *

When Lloyd awoke, sunlight streamed through the narrow windows lining the ceiling, warming him enough to make him smile and stretch. In doing so, his foot brushed against Kai's shin and what must have been a person's head of hair. He also noticed that he was at the very edge of the bed, Garmadon now absent from his side. He opened his eyes wide and looked around.

Kai's head lay burrowed into his shoulder, not unlike Lloyd had done the evening before to his father, though Lloyd was disheartened to find Kai's mouth wide open, and drool soaking into his sleeve like a sponge. On Kai's other side was Zane, having somehow migrated into the middle of the bed as the night passed. Lloyd wondered for a moment if this had happened consciously so. On Zane's side was Cole, an arm and leg draped over the ninja of ice as he lay face down in the mattress, his head buried beneath a pillow. This left Jay as the lump lying now across the foot of the bed, underneath several of his fellow friends' extremities.

Lloyd nodded. All of his friends were accounted for. But where was Garmadon?

As if answering the thought, a snore rose from somewhere on the floorboards beneath the bed's foot. Eyebrows rising, Lloyd raised his head up, up, up, until the sheets pulled his torso into place. It was then he realized that sometime in the night the blankets and bedsheets hand been tucked around he and his friends, securing them so that the cold air was shunned from the warmth of their bodies. Again, Lloyd raised an eyebrow as he carefully began to remove himself of the sheets, opening himself up to the biting cold.

Upon exiting the bed completely, he ground his teeth together so hard they squeaked, and for a moment he debated climbing back into bed, but his curious nature won over the side that desired comfort, and he peeked behind the bed and stared at the person snoozing upon the floorboards.

"Ahw," he sighed.

Head propped up on a pair of slippers, Garmadon snoozed the morning hours away, bundled up in every blanket on the ship that lay unused. Layered around him almost like a cocoon was Lloyd's blanket, Kai's, Zane's, and Cole's, Jay's behind used as a sort of rug under him. On his feet were several pairs of woolen socks, ranging from his trademark purple to obviously-not-his yellow. He slept with a slight frown on his face, though Lloyd suspected this was not a frown of displeasure, at least not of anything but the temperature.

Lloyd smiled, feeling the need to drop down and plant a kiss on his father's forehead, before a voice stopped that train of thought from going any further.

"Oh my."

Lloyd looked over and spotted Jay's head poking out from under the blankets, staring at the father and son at a lopsided tilt. Lloyd straightened.

"Morning," he said, unable to stop his petulance from bleeding into his tone, "I see the air conditioner is still on."

Jay's lips shrank into a thin line, before he groaned and began worming out of bed, "On it," he whispered.

"Make sure you get Nya to help," Lloyd couldn't help but add, "And Zane, later."

"Why not now?"

"'Cause I need him," Lloyd looked at his sleeping father and grinned, "I've a mind to make Dad some blueberry pancakes."

"Oh?" Jay smirked, "With syrup?"

"And whipped cream. Lots of it."

Jay chuckled, sighed, and stood. Shivering and bidding one last goodbye, he left the room and sauntered down to where Nya's room rested, mumbling the whole way there about finding his tools.

Lloyd cast a gaze at his father one last time before he tiptoed past and made way for the kitchen, taking care to grab his slippers along the way. As he did so he decided that, all in all, it hadn't been a bad night.

* * *

 **It is my firm belief that Garmadon thinks of all of the ninja as his children, and nothing will change my mind. *shakes stick at Ninjago's writers***

 **I'd recommend watching _The Golden Girls;_ it is a pleasant show, and fun for most audiences.**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'm still working on some of your requests, so they'll be on the way. Have a nice day!**


	7. Mother

**I own nothing but the story.**

 **Summary:** **They were always little actions, ones that Jay didn't notice, or didn't think about until a particular night when Cole bristles and it all falls into place.**

* * *

The amount of people that Jay could call his best friend could be counted on one hand.

Not even that; the amount of people he called his best friend could be counted on one finger, because there was only one person he could call his best friend.

Jay loved his other friends; they were near and dear to him, but only one could he give the title of 'best friend.' It was a heavy title, one that carried the weight of mountains, which was why it was a good thing that Cole had super strength.

"Would'j'a like some more jambalaya, dear?" Edna's smile was wide and bright as she held out her sizzling skillet.

Best friends got the honor—no, the privilege—of eating dinner every week at his parents' home. At his home.

Cole had a special job as a best friend. Jay could show Cole parts of himself he hid from the entire world: his insecurities; his dreams; his regrets. He loved it; he loved having someone to talk to, someone to mess with, someone to return the favor to.

"I can't say no to more food, especially yours," Cole grinned and Edna laughed, tutting at the compliment.

Though the fact that Cole loved food was known by anyone who gave the ninja even a passing glance, Jay alone knew why his friend loved food.

In short, it was the experience of it.

Cole certainly ate just to eat, but his love of food stemmed from more than just nourishment. Jay knew that Cole would only eat something as disgusting as a deep fried cookie topped with ice cream if he had friends there to either chide or egg him on. Jay knew that Cole only ever brought home a cake if he had someone to polish it off with. He also knew that Cole loved to share his meals, to be able to sit with people he loved and eat with them.

As best friends, they knew and noticed things about each other that no one else would, and it was a wonderful relationship to have. So Jay brought Cole along on his weekly visit to his parents for a home cooked meal that they all would enjoy.

This tradition had started as an accident. What was supposed to be a night out at the arcade ended up with them getting thrown out by the collars after they broke the Ski-Ball machine. Their plans for stuffing themselves sick with pizza went awry, and they were left to contact Jay's parents for supper. They wouldn't mind him coming over for a surprise visit. They most definitely would enjoy having Cole over as well; never when he was younger had anybody come into their little shack of a trailer to eat.

But Cole was different; Cole was his best friend.

One night became multiple nights, for Ed and Edna loved seeing their son more than once in a while, and they loved getting the chance to embarrass him in front of his friend. Not that he minded, after a while. Jay realized that his parents never got the chance to share time with one of his peers when he was small. Growing up, he hadn't a neighbourhood filled with other children to play with. Now that he had the ninja, now that he had a best friend, he and his parents could partake in social interactions that they'd been denied for so many years. Yes, Ed and Edna loved having Cole over. They loved him as if he were another member of their small family, and Jay was okay with that.

"You might want to watch yourself," he said as they were leaving one evening, "I think my parents love you more than they do me."

There was a problem, however.

It wasn't something Jay knew as a problem, more as something his mind was subconsciously aware of whenever these weekly visits would occur. Nothing he thought about, but something he knew was there. He didn't know what it was.

Cole had responded to his joke with a laugh that was higher than what Jay knew was real, saying in a tone too hard, "Don't say that."

Best friends knew each other well enough to know when something was wrong with the other.

Edna offered some more jambalaya, which Cole gladly accepted. He stiffened when she began to dish it onto his plate.

"I can do that," he said, his smile strained, "Thank you, though."

Edna appeared put out for a moment, but the visage disappeared the moment Jay noticed it. She offered Cole the wooden spoon, and he dished the helping himself.

Jay furrowed his brow.

There was a problem with these weekly visits. Or rather, there was a problem with Cole. It was little things that Jay saw, but didn't connect to anything; he saved the happenings into the back of his thoughts for later, where he could properly put the puzzle pieces together.

Little things, they were: a hesitance in Cole's demeanor whenever Jay said it was time to go; widened eyes whenever Edna fussed over him in any way; a step to the side when she tried snagging him in the hug she always gave Jay on the way out the door. Sometimes it was slightly bigger things, things that Jay wouldn't normally think much of, if he wasn't Cole's best friend.

Cole loved to cook. As bad as he was, it was one of his favorite pastimes. Whenever Edna asked if Cole would like to help around in the kitchen, he would refuse, choosing instead to help Ed and Jay in the shed. Cole didn't say he hated doing this in favor of cooking, but Jay noticed that he didn't appear to have as much fun as he would doing anything else.

He was aware that there was a problem, even if he didn't know what it was. It was a small but constant thing, a pin in his hip that wouldn't leave. He wondered, for a long time, what this problem could be.

Tonight, realization finally dawned on him.

Cole stepped aside as usual when Ed and Edna hugged Jay out the door, but then Edna did something unexpected. Before Cole could escape, she turned and held out her arms, pulling Cole into a tight hug.

The stiffness that yanked his best friend taut didn't go unnoticed as Cole bristled at Edna's touch. Jay's eyes widened at the action, more so when the barest trace of a grimace crossed Cole's face. The look of confused sadness on Edna's didn't go unnoticed either as she pulled away, letting Cole go free.

Smiles were strained on all sides as they left for that evening.

And Jay finally understood.

Cole was wired; his jaw set and shoulders tense as he walked ahead of Jay and out of the junkyard. Jay let him go, watching him walk with a fierce stare.

The title of 'best friend' carried a heavy weight. One of the many obligations that it entailed was 'honesty,' and Cole had failed to uphold that. Something was wrong with his friend; something was wrong with the situation, and Cole hadn't come forward. Needless to say, Jay was ticked.

"Cole," he called.

His tone must have sent a warning, for Cole came to an abrupt stop, dropping his head to the earth before pulling it back and sighing, "Yeah?"

Jay stilled too, hoping that Cole would be the one to fill the distance that had grown between them. "What's your problem?" the question came off sharper than he intended, but Jay was angry. Fuming.

Dirt scraped beneath Cole's boots as he turned, "What?"

"You know what," Jay took a step forward, "You know exactly what. That stint you pulled at dinner? What was that?"

He could just barely see Cole bite his lip in the shadows shrouding his face. "That...that was nothing."

"Poppycock!"

"I'm sorry?"

Jay marched another few steps forward, "That wasn't nothing! Why wouldn't you let my mom hug you? Why wouldn't you let her dish you a plate of food?"

Cole stood as still as stone, watching Jay rage at him. "I...I just don't like being hugged, is all."

"Ha!" Jay threw out his hands, his insides boiling as he thought of all those little moments he saw in the past, "You're lying. I know what's going on here!" He was putting those pieces together, but at the same time he felt as though he was falling apart. "You don't like my mom."

Cole's brow flew up in surprise. "What?"

"You don't!" said Jay, "You don't like her!" The realization hurt more than he expected it to. Cole didn't like his mother, his brain procured, and suddenly all that he'd noticed made sense. "You won't let her touch you, you won't help her out with the cooking, which I _know_ you love to do!"

Cole released what sounded like a low groan, the hand that wasn't in his jacket pocket running through his hair. Jay talked on.

"You always seem upset when I tell you it's time to come here, and you refuse to let her do things for you! Things she does because she happens to like you!"

"Jay—"

"Why?!" Jay bit, trying to swallow the lump that appeared in the back of his throat, "What's wrong with her? What's so wrong with my mom that makes you hate her? All she ever did was like you!"

Friends were supposed to talk to each other, discuss important subjects that mattered to each of them, like whether or not they liked each other. If Cole didn't like his mother, then how much did he really like Jay?

"That's not what this is," said Cole, sounding ridiculously calm. Jay wished that his friend was as angry as he was. A subject this sensitive required yelling, and lots of it.

"Then what is it?" said Jay, "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting. I know you enough to know when something's bothering you. I saw the way you looked when she gave you a hug."

"That's..." Cole put a hand to his face, pinching his nose. Then he let out a bitter growl, saying, "I should have known you would have picked something up."

He paused there, which was a terrible place to pause, because Jay felt all the air inside of him deplete when Cole didn't immediately deny his claims. "Well," he said, a shake in his voice he couldn't suppress, "What have I picked up? What about my mother is so awful that you want nothing to do with her?"

"I don't hate her, Jay."

"What is it!?" he took one last step forward, "Answer me! What is all this?"

"She just—" Cole inhaled, as though he were bracing himself for a shot, "Sometimes I get uncomfortable around her, alright?"

Jay felt like a book had been slammed across his face; the sting he felt may have been phantom, but it hurt just the same. "Why?"

Cole kicked at the dirt, pushed it around with his foot. "Look—I don't want to talk about this now—"

"Well, you're going to have to," said Jay, "Unless you want to eat a knuckle sandwich. What's wrong with my mom?"

"Nothing, she's perfect. A wonderful person, a wonderful mother."

Now Jay was more than angry. He was confused. "So what's your problem?"

"It's not with her, I swear," Cole held out his hands, "It's with me. I'm the one with the problem."

Jay blinked. "I already knew that. I need you to tell me what it is," he paused, "That's what best friends do."

Cole stared at the ground a while longer, and for once, Jay let the silence take over, waiting until Cole had the nerve to respond.

When he did, Jay wasn't ready for it.

"I love your mother," Cole began, "I really do, Jay, and I'm sorry I made you think otherwise. It's just that—the reason I get—" he suddenly growled and turned a glare towards the sky, as if the words he was looking for lay among the taffeta-tinged clouds. "Look, Jay, sometimes your mom—"

Jay leaned forward, curious and worried all at once.

"Sometimes..." Cole finally looked into his eyes, emotion shining bright from deep chocolate irises, "Sometimes she reminds me of—of my own—"

He stopped, and Jay finally got it. For the second time that evening, realization dawned on him, more so than it had before, and now he had the urge to shove his foot down his throat.

"Oh," he said. A dumb statement it was, but it was all he could say.

Cole offered him a thin lipped smile. "Sorry."

"No," Jay held up a hand, "Don't you be sorry. I'm the one who—" he felt like an idiot. "Crap."

Cole let out a huff. "I should have told you."

"I could've helped you."

"I know," said Cole, "I don't blame you for being mad. I didn't mean to make you think I hated your mom. It's just that—it's been so long since I've had someone like her in my life, and I don't know how to handle it, sometimes."

"I see," Jay studied the pebbles dotting the mottled earth, "I wish you'd told me. I could have talked to Mom." Boy, he'd made an ass of himself.

"There's not much you could have done."

"I could explain why you don't want her to mo—to fuss over you."

"But I do!" Cole walked next to him, wearing a smile that didn't match his eyes, "I _want_ to give her hugs and help her make dinner. I just—I can't do it yet."

Jay nodded. "I understand."

"Hey," Cole cuffed him on the shoulder, "Your mother is the best. I'll tell her that next week. So she knows."

"I'll tell her too," said Jay, looking up, "about you. How you feel. So she can understand."

Cole gave a slight frown, "She won't be mad, will she?"

"Of course not!" said Jay, "She's understanding. She might be sad she can't shower you with hugs, but she'll give you respect. Then when you're ready, you can choose to let her love you. Does that sound good?"

Cole smiled for real this time, "I'd appreciate that."

Jay returned the expression. "I'm sorry I got mad at you."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt."

"That would have made things easier," Jay admitted, trying still to shake away the heat in his face, "but it's not always easy."

Cole shook his head.

"But I am glad you told me. Now I can help you out."

Because that is what best friends do for each other.

"Thank you," Cole put an arm around his shoulder, and together they returned home.

End.

* * *

 **It's been 84 years...**

 **Haha, apologies for not updating this sooner. I'm hoping to pick it back up, but things have gotten busy. Thank you for taking the time to read it!**


	8. Breathtaking

**This is a reject from Do Tell that had too many words to trash. I hope you enjoy. I don't own Ninjago.**

* * *

It was often said in Ninjago that a dragon would take your breath away. Whether it was from awe or fear, a dragon had the ability to make a man forget how to breathe. While this was the most common way a person met a dragon, Cole knew that there was another, more terrifying way a dragon could take a person's breath away.

No one ever asked where Cole had gotten his fear of dragons from, but Cole had always been okay with that, because he wouldn't tell. He laughed and groaned when they teased, but he never gave a reason for his fear. When he befriended Rocky, and his fear supposedly disappeared, he didn't tell. Even after, however; the ninja never stopped teasing him for it. Dragons didn't even live in Ninjago, how silly to fear them.

While what they said was meant to poke fun, it was precisely the reason Cole had feared dragons in the first place. Because dragons didn't live here permanently, one never knew when or where they would come across one. Though the dragons had their own realm they inhabited, it wasn't uncommon for the creatures to travel between realms to scavenge, or even just to sunbathe upon the roof of some unfortunate civilian's house. To find a dragon in Ninjago was surprising, certainly, but not unusual.

Though that never made it any less terrifying.

Cole wasn't afraid of them for most of his life. Until an autumn a few months before he became a ninja, he thought of them like he thought of creatures like lions, or bears; they were dangerous, sure, but he didn't fear them.

The day he feared dragons was the forty third since he'd run away from the school his father had dumped him at; the forty third since he'd begun living on the streets.

It wasn't the life he wanted, but at that point, it wasn't like he cared. His father was distant, his mother…gone. He passed through life one day at a time. He'd managed to find himself a group of vagrants to travel with. They weren't all friends, and they certainly weren't his family, but they were people he could live with, people who could help him get what he needed to make it to the next day. Together, they would pass from town to town. Like dragons, they would scavenge.

When they'd reached the day's village, Cole was instructed to go to the local rice fields and pick a few plants off before the farmer awoke. He was joined by a boy, a friend named Jack…or was it Joe? Jimmy? James? Cole chose not to remember.

They'd been making their way through the marsh at the outskirts of the farm, each knee-deep in water and mud. From the way the bottom had been stirred, one hadn't been able to see past the waterline, and could be forgiven for thinking that the only thing beneath the surface were the yellowed roots of the grasses shooting up from the earth.

A rooster was crowing off in the distance, and a raven screeched back.

Jimmy, Joe, or Jack flashed Cole a grin before cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting an enthusiastic, "Good morning!" to the calling birds.

Cole laughed, saying, "You're going to get us caught, you dingus."

"Maybe not," said Jimmy, Joe, or Jack, "that old farmer's never going to know if it's us or just someone passing by."

"People don't pass from the back unless they got dastardly intentions."

"Well, we're just two boys out to get breakfast, right?"

Cole went that day without eating.

The boys reached the bottom of a hill nearby the farm's outermost fence. The water was deeper there, rising to their thighs, then their waist. Sunshine peeked out from below a distant hill, behind a wall of fog, greeting them hello, almost like a welcome. It was a sight to behold, and the boys shared one last smile before they began an attempt to climb the hill.

Dragons were terrifying creatures, but one of the most terrifying attributes they had at the time wasn't their teeth, or their talons, or even their ferocious magnitude; it was the fact that you never knew where they might be lurking.

Cole was saying something to his friend, who was ahead of him, nearly out of the water, safe. He forgets what it was, but he does remember looking down, reaching for grasses to grab onto when the ground ripped itself from beneath his feet, and suddenly he was underwater.

Bubbles bobbled up to the white surface as Cole gasped and choked. A muffled shout that may have been his reached his ears as the massive talons of large-footed creature pinned him to the mud. He struggled and writhed beneath the appendage, grabbing handfuls of mud and kicking his feet, reeling over the sudden change in situation.

A deep, primal sort of fear gripped his spine.

Spots swam before his eyes as he struggled for air, and he heard further shouting, this time by someone else. Was it his friend, calling to the creature, like he had the birds? If so, it worked, because the next thing Cole registered was a mighty bellow of some deep bellied animal. He could feel the vibrations in both the water and the earth as the weight on his chest lifted. Cole scrambled for the surface, gasping as he reached the air and immediately sputtering and choking out the water in his airways.

There was another shout, and Cole turned to see his friend splashing through the water, tripping against the weeds as he avoided the steaming jet of water coming from the mouth of a monstrous, flat-headed dragon.

Burgundy and striped, it stood with its wings and razor-sharp tail tensed and attacking as it went after his poor, powerless friend. So far, said friend had managed to avoid any damage, but as the water he waded got deeper and deeper, the slower his strides became, allowing the dragon fast and easy access towards its prey.

Cole released a cry, rising to his feet and stumbling towards the dragon, his heart racing a mile a minute. The foundation for his future phobia laid itself within his quivering heart then, taking hold as Cole grabbed at the one part of the dragon he could reach: the tail.

Its sharp edges cut into his palms, leaving deep red ridges as he pulled the dragon back with all the strength his dizzied body could muster. The dragon roared, the sound scattering crows and passerines from all around. Its sustained ring stayed in Cole's ears as he backed the dragon up, settled into his bones and mind so that he would never forget it.

"Cole!" he heard.

The dragon turned, white eyes finding him in a flash as it sprayed another jet of hot water at him. While he'd the sense to let go and jerk out of the way, the bulk of the blow hit his shoulder, burning and searing him as he was knocked back into the marsh.

The dragon roared again, and waves jostled against the sides of his head, washing into his ears as the predator scrambled towards him.

Cole's eyes held tears from both pain and fear as he took a breath and slid beneath the water's surface, crawling through the mud on his elbows, ceasing only when he reached the part of the marsh where the grasses grew tallest. He felt the movements of the dragon following him as it splashed around, flattening grasses on top of him. Lungs burning, Cole squeezed shut his eyes and prayed to every god he knew that the dragon would go away, leaving him and Jimmy, Joe, or Jack alone.

Underwater, the only thing he could hear clearly was his heartbeat, which raced as the dragon stayed a while, roaring and snorting as it searched the marsh. Eventually, the dragon strayed further and further away, until Cole couldn't hear it anymore. Routinely rising above the surface to breathe, he checked around and about him until the only waves that disturbed the water were his own. The dragon had gone, perhaps not far, but far enough where Cole could get away.

Knees shaking and head woozy, he untangled himself from the grasses and stood. Mud ran down his legs in rivulets. He coughed, spitting out both water and phlegm from his nose and mouth. Blinking, he looked around, searching for the orange he knew had been his friend's shirt before calling a hoarse cry.

The dragon had gone, but so had his friend.

He waded forward, hands and chest aching, tears streaming down his face. He called his friend's name. What had it been? Jack? Joe? Jimmy? Cole chose to forget.

Eventually, he heard a response, but it wasn't from his friend.

The farmer stood at the top of the hill, haloed by sunlight. "You there! Boy!"

Cole squinted, and the man cursed.

"By golly, are you alright?"

A woman appeared, perhaps his wife, maybe a neighbor. "We saw the dragon. Are you hurt?"

His shirt was torn where the dragon's talons had ripped into his flesh. They weren't deep marks, but they hurt, and Cole knew that he would feel them for the rest of his life, even if and after they scarred over. The woman released a shout, and eased herself halfway down the hill, arm outstretched as she waited for Cole to take her hand. He wished that he could stop crying.

"My—my friend," he sputtered, allowing the woman to grasp his arm.

"It's okay," said the man, voice soft as he waded into the marsh and took Cole by the shoulders, "It's alright. If you've got a friend, we'll find him. It will be alright."

Cole let them lead him to a small barn, where they laid him on a hay-stuffed mattress. What ensued afterwards was a blur; he remembers being sponged off and patched up, a doctor hovering across his vision. The voices of the man and woman he met mingled with that of several others as they came and went.

He remembers that they found his friend floating face-down in the marsh, in water dyed red several hundred feet from where Cole had been stumbling. There were holes in his friend's chest and shoulder, and his face had been burned beyond recognition.

Cole remembers crying upon hearing the news.

His friend was buried in a pauper's grave on the edge of town, unidentified and alone. Cole left the village the same way. The group of vagrants the two of them had made a home with had long since gone, and after a week of recovering, Cole walked away from the village, traveling down a road opposite of that they'd come in.

His eyes were wide, his chest tight.

No one had bothered asking Cole where his fear of dragons had come from, but that was okay, because Cole wasn't going to tell. The scars from his encounter had faded in time, but Cole still felt them now and again. Sometimes they would tingle, other times, if he was looking at Rocky, or at another wild dragon in Ninjago, they'd cut sharp through his chest, taking his breath away.

Because that is what dragons had the power to do.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**


	9. Chocolate

**Another Do Tell reject. I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

Pixal didn't eat. Though she'd been built with the ability to consume, she didn't need to, and had never tried, not until she met Zane.

She thought it curious; he didn't need to eat any more than she did, but he did anyway, and did it with zeal. She hadn't asked why, at first; she merely observed.

But she couldn't keep her curiosity silent for long. She liked to think that she knew Zane as well as herself, and any curiosities were taken care of quickly and silently.

"Zane," she called one day, finding him in the kitchen, cooking what the ninja described as "the best chocolate chip cookies in the world."

He turned, a smile already well across his face, "Pixal!" he greeted, "You look lovely today!"

"I look as I always do, Zane," said Pixal, approaching her boyfriend and looking at his work.

"As I said, you look lovely," he caught her head with his hand and brought her in for a quick kiss, "What brings you here?"

"I want to know why you eat," said she, staring at the tray of cookie dough, "I know why the sun shines, why the tide goes in and out, why Kai spends two hours a morning in the bathroom, but I do not know why you eat."

"Is there a problem?" Zane's grin melted, but the smile stayed on his face as he opened the oven, allowing the heat to roll out in waves.

"Of course not," said Pixal, "I want to know why. You do not need food, and yet you consume it daily. Is there something special about it other than sustenance?"

Zane did an odd thing. He shrugged. Pixal blinked, taken aback by the uncharacteristically vague gesture. She was almost angered by it, but Zane placed the tray in the oven and explained:

"I think it is fun," he said, "I cannot describe it, but there is something exciting about taste; it invokes all sorts of strange but intriguing thoughts. It allows me to look at the world around me in an entirely different way." Brushing his hands across his apron, he straightened and smiled at Pixal, "For example, the term 'sweet' is defined as flavor characteristic of sugar, or honey. How can I know what that is unless I eat? I happen to like a lot of the words like that. More so, when I eat, I understand other words and practices much better. I understand the world around me."

Pixal cocked her head to the side, distressed that she couldn't relate to the musings Zane spoke of, "How so?"

"Well," said Zane, putting his hand to his chin in thought, "When…when I think of someone like Kai, I think of foods like peppers, or cinnamon. He is…spicy. He is…" at Pixal's small frown, he switched to words that didn't describe taste, "He is hot-headed, sometimes too much to handle, sometimes so much so that you want nothing more to do with him ever again, but you continuously come back to him, because in spite of his fiery behavior, he is," Zane chuckled as he said his next few words, "what some people might call _irresistible._ "

Pixal nodded, slowly.

"When I think of someone like Jay," continued Zane, leaning back against the counter, eyes distant in thought, "I think of starches, mainly. Foods like potatoes, or biscuits. He's a warm person, sometimes one that people avoid, but a good person, one that would make a diet seem empty without."

Pixal continued nodding, and Zane smiled at her.

"When I think of you," he said, and Pixal froze, "I think of chocolate. Dark chocolate, specifically. You're amazing. You are sweet, and you make everything better. And," a hint of pink dusted his cheeks, "You're my favorite."

Had she the ability to blush, she would be as red as a tomato.

She blinked.

 _Tomato…_

She would have to try it. Try all of it.

She pressed a hand over Zane's, serving a silent thanks for so kindly and concisely explaining his reasons behind the needless task of eating, and she hence spent the rest of the day thinking, thinking, thinking.

When she saw Jay furiously wiping a napkin across his chin after taking an overzealous bite out of a particularly juicy peach, she wondered for the first time how the fruit might taste. She knew that the balance between acid and sugars made the fruit a delectable flavor, the kind you had to lean over the sink to enjoy, but try as she might, she couldn't describe the taste.

Not like Zane could.

At dinner, the ninja devoured the cookies faster than a viper strikes its prey, and the noises they made—Pixal always noticed the noises—intrigued her far more than they usually did.

Zane offered her a cookie, his smile a promise of her enjoyment, but she declined. She wanted to try another food first, wanted to see if what Zane had spoken of was true.

That night, alone in her bed, she tried chocolate for the first time, and suddenly, everything made sense.

She tried many foods after that, and always made sure to stand right next to Zane as he cooked various wonders for her to sample. She found that she liked taste, liked it a lot. The world seemed sharper, more descript than it had been in the past, and though she did not need to, she ate as often as she could.

She tried many foods, but chocolate would always be her favorite.

* * *

 **I've never written Pixal before, which is really a shame, because she's one of my favorites from the show.**

 **I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!**


	10. Yarn

**I'm starting to realize that a lot of the one-shots I trashed were Cole-centered, which is a little upsetting, because when I started writing for Ninjago, I told myself that I was going to give Cole the attention the show continues to deny him, and yet here we are. :D Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

Cole liked to crotchet when he was stressed. Though Lou wasn't learnt in the ways of psychology, he was sure that Cole did it for no other reason than that the repeated motions of the act kept him calm, giving him something to focus on other than whatever was distressing him. Lou personally thought the activity was a little…for lack of a better term… _unfit_ for what he wanted his boy to be, but he was willing to tolerate it, especially in recent months.

Red yarn snaked up from a roll that had dropped to the floor into his son's careful hands, creating the beginnings of what looked to be a beautiful sweater. Lou watched him from across the room, having just returned home from the city. He was unsure if Cole had noticed him yet, for his son still stared at his work with his brow furrowed in concentration, but he was okay with that. He needed time to prepare what he was about to say, though he didn't think there was a way he could possibly say it, even if he had years to prepare.

So he leaned against the archway leading to their living room, watching his son work.

It was late.

Eventually, Cole looked up and spotted him, jerking in surprise and dropping another roll of yarn. While he reached to shut off a buzzing radio, Lou released a smile that might have appeared as a grimace, walking over to his son and crouching in front of the armchair he slouched in.

Lou wished his son wouldn't sit like that; it was unbecoming.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and Lou secretly prayed for the silence to say, but Cole kept looking at him, still frowning, though expectant. The longer Lou looked, the more his eyes watered, and he had to turn away.

"Well?" Cole eventually spoke first, "What is it?"

"Don't take that tone, son," Lou's fuss was half-hearted, and he tried to put on a smile, moving on, "What do you have, there?"

Cole looked down, suspicious at his father's expression, "I'm making Momma a sweater."

Lou's smile twitched and quivered, "It looks good."

Cole's lip began to curl; he knew something was up. When he looked back at his father, his eyes were glistening against the light of the lamp. "How is she?"

Lou swallowed, the smile dropping fast. He couldn't do this. He couldn't dare do this. Standing, Lou began to pace, folding his hands behind his back and staring at some of the family photos they kept around the home. "Son?" he tried.

Cole squeezed his hook, looking down.

"Son," Lou felt his heart swell, "Mom is…" he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this.

"She's sick, isn't she?" Cole finished, staring at his stilled hands.

Lou turned to look at him.

"I know," said Cole, his hair hanging forward so that Lou couldn't see his face, "I knew there was something…wrong with her." He held up his hook, "That's why I'm making her this sweater. She'd like it, wouldn't she?"

Lou spoke in a broken whisper, "Yes."

Cole nodded, then went back to crocheting, the frown still present on his face. Lou couldn't do this.

Inhaling, he said, "Cole?"

No response.

Miffed, Lou placed a hand on Cole's own. "Listen to me."

Cole kept his head bent.

Lou ran his tongue over his teeth, then, bracing himself like he was going to pull a band aid, spoke, "Mom isn't going to get any better."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"Cole?"

He tilted his son's head up, so he could see him, terrified of what he would find, but Cole just sat there, eyes open and vacant, staring off at a point past where Lou could see. "She'll be home tomorrow, but I need you understand that…I need you know that…"

His boy was about to lose his mother; Lou was about to lose his wife. Suddenly, it was hard to swallow, and Lou had to look away again. He felt like he was back in the hospital, listening to the doctor explain the news. It took him hours to wash the evidence of tears away from his face.

He had to be strong for his boy.

"How long?"

Lou turned, "Hm?"

Cole's stare was still vacant, "How much longer does she have?"

Lou couldn't believe how calm his son looked; he'd expected the boy to burst into tears, to wail and cry like he had as a child. He took a deep breath, "A couple of months."

A boundless moment passed, and Cole's hands began to move again, taking up more yarn and hooking it into his creation. Lou frowned at the action, scarcely believing how quickly his boy seemed to brush off the news. He wasn't sobbing, he wasn't shouting, he wasn't even angry.

After a second, he heard Cole mutter, "That'll give me enough time to finish the sweater."

That was it. That was all Cole said for the rest of the evening. Lou went about his usual activities; eating dinner and eventually retiring to an empty bed, all while Cole sat in that armchair, turning yarn into a sweater for his mom.

Lou tried not to feel angry over the fact that his son didn't cry.

He supposed that he never would understand him.

* * *

 **This should be the last of the rejects I felt were worth posting, so all one-shots from here on out will either be requests or my own random ideas.**

 **Thank you for reading! Have a fantastic day!**


	11. Isn't It Romantic? (Jaya)

**pagolia1905** **requested Jaya, so I hope this will suffice. I do not own Ninjago.**

* * *

The ocean roars in her ear as the wind whips past, loud even at this distance. The air nearly snatches her paperback with it, but with a well-placed thumb and a grip like iron, she keeps it still, leaving the pages to rattle.

Nya reaches to pull strands of black hair from where they've splayed over her face.

It isn't necessarily a cold day, but a sky of grey hangs low over the earth, hiding it from the sun's face. This, combined with the whitecaps and the promise of storm upon the breeze, makes it the perfect day for a date at the beach.

No one else is there.

Nya has her head on Jay's belly as they lie on a blue checked blanket. She's reading, he might have fallen asleep staring at the clouds. They've been here a while.

In the month since they've gotten back together, their dates have turned down a path neither of them are used to.

A simple observation is that they're quieter than they used to be. More specifically, Jay is quieter than he used to be. He's silent for long stretches of time, has been since Nadakhan.

She's suffered the same effects, but Nya thinks she's handling everything well. She's come to terms with what happened, and now she's…better. Not the best, but better.

Getting to know death as intimately as she did left behind marks, not all of them visible, but she's come to terms with it. She's fine. She's fine.

Jay is…less fine. He's quiet.

She's here reading a book of poems; he's let their conversation dangle in the air, eventually being carried off in the wind.

She turns a page to find a poem about flowers and frost and wind and chill, and it's romantic in a way that only she can appreciate, being one of those hearts that has a craving for sadness. She can't help it, but she's found that the poems help her.

She received this book back when she was eight years old. It was a gift from a kind librarian that had taken a liking towards her, and while at the time she secretly wished the book had been one of wild fantasy instead, she'll forever be grateful towards the librarian.

 _It's amazing,_ she thinks, time and time again, how poets can capture such complex concepts like love or death in a few simple lines, often comparing them to items that seemingly had nothing to do with them.

In a way, they help her understand what happened. They help her cope.

She lifts herself onto her elbows and crawls up Jay's side so that she's closer to his face. The troubled look he's giving the sky melts when he turns, instead being replaced with a smile that's smaller than it used to be.

"Jay," she says, bypassing the expression, "Look at this; read this poem," she holds out the pages and waits for him to take it.

He does so with a frown, not an unusual face he makes when reading something that doesn't include pictures, but it stays as his eyes scan the page.

"Isn't it romantic?" she says after several moments.

Jay nods, but the look in his eyes betrays his confusion. She waits again, but Jay has always had more of a technical mind, so she explains, "The wind falls in love with the window flower."

The explanation doesn't make a single dent against his confusion; if anything, it fortifies it.

"The window…what?"

Nya points, "The wind falls in love with a flower. See?" she reads, "' _He marked her through the pane; he could not help but mark; and only passed her by, to come again at dark._ '"

Jay doesn't understand, but he nods as if he does, letting out an appreciative, "Ahhh…I see!"

Nya snorts, lying back so that she's facing the sky again. The clouds swirl above her, almost dizzying.

"I could never understand poetry," Jay sighs, initiating conversation for the first time in twenty minutes, "Every little thing means something else."

"That's not true!" Nya smiles, "You just have to know what to look for."

Though she can't see him, Jay shakes his head. He doesn't say anything else, and just like that, the conversation is over. It's become so common now that Nya doesn't bother getting frustrated anymore.

 _He's just dealing,_ she thinks. He's dealing, just like she's been dealing. That's where the poetry comes in.

She watches the clouds, wondering what there is out there that can help Jay deal. She loves him and everything about him, but he's isn't the same boy she fell in love with, however long ago that was.

She turns her head sideways, watching the whitecaps churn. She can't expect Jay to be the same person after Nadakhan. If she's being honest with herself, she sometimes wonders if she's even the same person, if she died as one soul and came back with someone else's.

It would explain the sadness.

"Hold on—"

At the sound of Jay's voice, Nya lifts her head. He has the book gripped tight in his hands, holding it closer to his face as he frowns at something on the page.

"It says here that the breeze goes away!"

Nya blinks, "Yeah?"

The look of distress on Jay's face is almost adorable, but Nya has enough shame not to indulge in it. "But," he says, choosing his words carefully, "it fell in love with the flower."

Nya smiles, "Yeah. Sometimes love doesn't work out. That's the point of the poem."

Jay looks at her, aghast, "That isn't romantic!"

She can't help but snort out a giggle, "What are you talking about? It's a lovely poem."

"I can buy 'lovely,' but 'romantic'?" Jay gives his head a shake in a hard 'no'.

Nya laughs, and this time it's she that lets the conversation drop. Maybe there isn't anything romantic about unrequited love, but the poem is a favorite of hers, one of several. She can hear Jay flipping through her book, and she's pleased to let him do so, hoping that he'll find a poem that might be of some help to him, too.

She closes her eyes after a while, shifting so that she can snuggle closer to Jay, resting her head now on his shoulder. The wind has picked up, bringing a chill, and he puts his arm around her shoulders almost on instinct.

Minutes might have passed, maybe hours, but sometime later, Jay lets out a soft, "Nya?"

She glances up, smiling, "Yes?"

He holds the book over, "What's the meaning of this poem?"

She looks. It's titled ' _My Butterfly_ ,' and the spine is worn white behind this page, for all the times she's read it.

"Loss," she says, "How it feels when love dies, especially after everything you've been through together."

Jay bites at his lip. Nya watches.

"It's a sad one."

He looks at her, "You don't think that it's romantic, do you?"

She pauses, thinks, then shrugs. "I find it beautiful."

Jay looks back at the page, frowning. With a thumb, absently, he traces over the last few lines of the poem:

" _I found that wing broken today!_

 _For thou art dead, I said,_

 _And the strange birds say._

 _I found it with the withered leaves_

 _Under the eaves."_

'Thou' being the butterfly, it strikes a chord with Nya, one she still isn't sure the meaning behind, and from the looks of it, it strikes something within Jay, too.

After a moment, Jay inhales, saying, with purpose, "Nya?"

She moves, and he sits up, propping his elbows onto his knees as he draws them to his chest.

"Yes?" she says again, following his movement until she rests her weight onto her palms, "What now?"

"Do you…" he looks at the poem, studying it hard, "do you remember what you said…back…back before you almost…"

Nya swallows as the memory stirs something gross down in her gut, "Yes."

Jay glances over at her, "Well, you don't—do you really believe that the best love stories end in tragedy?"

Now that's a question she must admit that she didn't _quite_ expect. It's the first time since it happened that Jay's even brought it up.

She's thankful, of course, but she stops to think. Love is something that invites plenty of emotions, and for some reason, her heart has a craving for sadness.

All in all, though, "I guess not."

"You only guess?"

Nya shrugs, finding tension in her shoulders, "I was dying, Jay. I was probably just being overdramatic."

"Overdramatic?" Jay silently scoffs at the idea, "You've earned the right."

"Maybe."

A beat, then, "Nya," Jay scoots closer, bringing the book with him, "I might be a knucklehead, but I've always thought of you as my butterfly."

She smiles, gaze turned towards the blanket, "Do I really bring you that much joy?"

"Of course you do!" a ghost of a smile teases at Jay's face, but it's gone before she can appreciate it, "But…I don't want to lose you."

There's more weight put to these words than the times that he's said it in the past, and Nya understands.

Boy, she understands.

"I know," she says, looking out towards the sea, "but that's not something either of us can control."

She gets it, now. Before Nadakhan, she'd spent her entire life trying—trying with success that may have been no more than luck—to survive, to live to see another day. In those moments when the Tiger Widow's venom had been taking effect, she realized (with a laugh, almost), that those efforts weren't as fruitful as she thought.

They aren't worthless—she'll argue tooth and nail over that point—but, in the grand scheme of things, she is hardly larger than a butterfly.

"Do you fear death?"

Jay is toying with a loose string on the blanket now, staring at it with a furrowed brow.

"Not anymore," she turns to see him glance up, so she explains, "I can't say that it's something to look forward to, or something that I want for myself, but I'm more…comfortable with it than I used to be."

Jay looks away. "I'm uncomfortable with it."

She places a hand over his, stilling his twitching.

"I'm worried that it'll come for us again," he holds up the book, "I'm worried I'll end up like this person in here, who finds his butterfly withered and dead, whose heart dies. I'm worried I'll grow old and bitter, and that I'll look back on my life and regret it."

He refrains from outright throwing the book against the ground out of respect for her property, but Nya wouldn't have cared. She's had her share of outbursts over the book, herself.

She puts an arm around Jay's shoulders, swallowing around a stone in her throat, "I know you're worried," she says, "but your love won't die just because me or anyone else does. That's the great thing about love; it's strong."

Jay shakes his head, "I know that you're okay with it, but—"

"I'm not 'okay' with it," Nya pauses, purses her lips, then tries again, "Everything that Nadakhan did…I'm not okay with it. As for what happened with the venom, I'm…I don't know. Dying is…it's just something that has to happen."

"There are times it shouldn't happen."

"You're right," Nya says, "I shouldn't have died that day, and guess what? I didn't. Sort of."

She isn't exactly sure if her experience counted as death, since the last thing she remembers was looking into Jay's eyes before she was swallowed by darkness. Afterwards, some expanse of time occurred for she knows not how long, and she wound up hovering someplace where she walked all by herself.

She remembers feeling, incredibly, incredibly grateful, for reasons she did not know, and she was warm and happy, heading towards what she can only describe as 'elsewhere,' before she felt herself being pulled back by a force more powerful than any villain or creature she's ever faced.

And now she's here today, holding close a boy who wasn't able to see all that, a boy who saw a love die before wishing it all away.

"I hate him," says Jay, "I hate whatever he did to make you think that—" he cuts himself off, drawing his lips into a line, but Nya isn't so quick to let him off that easy.

"Think what?"

"That—" Jay struggles to speak through gritted teeth, "That that was the best way our story could have ended. Tragedy."

"I never said 'best'," Nya pulls back, "I just said 'greatest.'"

"I think that you need to redefine the word 'great', then."

Nya looks at her book. "Tragedy has its place in greatness."

"I don't want it to have a place in us."

She can make sense of it. After all they've been through, she knows why he feels in such a way. That being said, she thinks Jay wrong. Tragedy already has a place in them; it was carved there a month ago by Nadakhan's unforgiving hand, and it'll stay there for the rest of their lives, however long that may be.

She doesn't regret it. She's come to terms with what's happened, and the bottom line of it all is that, with as much damage as Nadakhan might have inflicted, they beat him. At the end of the day, they beat him.

She tries telling this to Jay. It's something she isn't surprised she has to remind him of.

Jay is quiet, terribly quiet, and then he nods. They beat him, and they'll beat this, whatever this may be.

"If someone ever writes a poem about us," says Jay, after awhile, "I want it to be about a flower who falls in love with a butterfly, and they stay together, living long and happy lives."

Nya chuckles; she can't help it. "It might not be remembered."

Jay shrugs, "I'll remember it. And that'll be all that matters."

That will be all. Little poems like that matter to her, too. She keeps them bookmarked with little post notes, or toilet paper, sometimes. That way, when the sadness spreads too far, she has a way of pulling herself back.

"You forget," she says, smiling at him, "That ' _My Butterfly'_ speaks of happy moments, too."

"And so will our poem," Jay finally smiles, this time wide, "Our poem will talk of happy moments, and it will talk of sad moments, but all in all, it will be good. It'll be romantic, and it'll be great."

It sounds perfect. Truly it does.

They spend the rest of the day talking, smiling. Jay looks better than he did when they arrived, like some of the weight that he's been carrying has been laid to rest, right next to them against the sand. He demands that she point out some of the happier poems, which she's more than pleased to share. He can better appreciate them now, because who can appreciate the good moments without the occasional salt of sadness to highlight its sweetness?

That's what Nya thinks, at least. Her heart has a craving for sadness, if only to give the happiness more meaning.

Fortunately, Jay understands.

Evening comes early that day when the sky darkens and lightning flashes several miles away, and they decide that it's time to return to the world they left behind. They gather up the blanket, Nya tucks her book into the crook of her arm, and they walk off, hand in hand.

* * *

 **I'm not sure how I feel about this one, but I went through two other failed ideas before eventually coming up with this. If I finish the other two, I may publish them, but that'll be up in the air for a while.**

 **The poems used in this story were _My Butterfly,_ and _The Breeze and the Window_ _Flower,_ by Robert Frost. As you can tell, I own neither of them.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you all for reading!**


	12. Or Close Imitation

**Summary: Zane brings Echo home.**

 **Requested by Soundwave555. I do not own Ninjago.**

* * *

The plate drops to the floor with a crash that falls silent on Zane's ears. There's a robot at his feet, and a figure at the corner of the room. Hidden in shadow, it sends Zane's senses into high alert, but he's frozen in stance.

Zane went to the lighthouse on a whim, promising to pick up old papers and belongings Dr. Julien left behind. That's what he told himself, at least, for he isn't sure of what Dr. Julien might've left. It's the third anniversary of his passing, and Kai told Zane that those funny feelings of heaviness that seem to crush his insides was grief, which as it turns out, doesn't go away. It would help to find a place rich with strong, loving memories to mourn, said Kai.

Kai is not a wise person; one could argue whether he is even smart, but he knows a lot about people. Zane trusts Kai enough to set up a visit to the tree he grew up in.

He never made it to his tree, having changed his mind halfway there.

That's another human trait; obeying thoughts and feelings in favor of meticulous plans carried out from a series of set instructions. Kai knows a lot about that, as well, so Zane thinks he'd appreciate the action.

Then Zane arrived.

The lighthouse is a frightening place, not for its contents or structure, but for the crushing sense of loneliness it represents. There is only one plate in the cupboard, blue and covered in dust. His father always had an air of loneliness, Zane realizes as he holds it, to have spent years in some far-off hole, building friends out of metal and gears. One is Zane, another crowds his feet, butting into his leg like a chicken begging for a treat.

Gizmo stayed for years, putting around with rust that gradually spread from his joints. Zane promises to take them back, because no one deserves to live in a house with only one plate.

Zane was holding the plate, imagining how terribly sad his father must have been, when the figure appears at the corner of the room. Then the plate drops, and Zane is scared.

Not due to the shock of discovering that he's being watched, nor the surprise of realizing that he isn't alone in the lighthouse. He's terrified of the face he sees staring back at him, just as surprised and shocked as he is.

Zane knows that face; he washed it that morning.

* * *

They're playing gin rummy, and Jay's never been good at cards.

Checkers or chess, he can get by. Dominoes would be a sure win, because anything technical or strategical is right in his ballpark. But cards? Jay's counting loss after loss as Kai continues to beat him senseless.

"What's the name of the game?" Kai singsongs after a particularly infuriating round.

"You've gotta be kidding me—"

"Gin!" Kai throws his hand flat against the table and chortles merrily.

The temple is cozy under a soft lamplight glow and a slowly darkening sky as the ninja pitter away the evening hours in their tiny living area. Lloyd and Nya lounge in front of the television set, limbs flung lazily over each other, Cole sits in an armchair, looping a line of periwinkle yarn around a metal hook as he crochets, and Kai is making Jay look like Ninjago's biggest chump, now with cheeto dust all over his fingers.

"This game is for old ladies anyway," Jay grumbles as everyone giggles. This fact doesn't stop Jay from gathering cards for another game. He's as competitive as anyone, after all.

When Zane walks in after a long two days out, they know immediately that something is wrong.

The first clue is that he stumbles. Zane doesn't stumble on his own. A perfect machine, he simply isn't built for stumbling, unless some wise guy (usually Jay) sticks his foot out while Zane tries to reach his seat at the dinner table.

The second clue is his face. He looks shaken up but desperately trying to hide it, like a sheet of ice over a roaring river.

Everyone is staring at him as he begins to speak.

"I—uh—" he glances down the hallway he appeared from and stares back, frowning, "I have some news."

Lloyd is alert and Cole has put down his yarn.

"Are you alright?" asks Kai, arm bent over the back of his chair, "Did something happen at your home?"

Kai sounds truly alarmed, and Jay puts down his cards. He frowns at Zane, worried, but not sure why.

Zane's mouth works a moment before he says, "I never made home."

"Were you attacked?" now Lloyd is on his feet.

But Zane shakes his head, "No, no. I...I went instead to my father's lighthouse."

Jay nods in understanding, and the significance of this statement doesn't hit him until several moments afterward, when Zane says:

"My father left a few things there...so I brought them home."

Suddenly, Jay is hit with a realization that shocks like lightning. He jerks his gaze towards the couch and finds Nya already staring at him, wide eyed and racing through a million different thoughts.

 _Not yet,_ is the most prominent one. Don't say anything.

It's a difficult command; Jay suddenly feels very, very sick. In all the time that's passed, all that's happened, he'd simply forgot—

Zane turns down the hall, and suddenly, he's smiling, arms aloft in a welcoming gesture.

"Come on," he says, "Do not be afraid."

A distantly familiar screech of metal on metal sounds throughout the room as something—someone—steps into the room. At last, Jay stands. He recognizes that face, those wide blue eyes.

"My friends," Zane says, and Jay notices that his smile is stiff at the corners, "This is Echo. Echo, this is your family."

Echo Zane blinks as he looks around the room, where baffled, open-mouthed faces stare right back.

* * *

The shock is electric; everyone wonders what happened. Has he been there this entire time? What is he? What do we do with him?

Everyone speaks at Echo, rather than to him, because he can't be just like Zane, can he?

Echo himself seems overwhelmed at the attention he's receiving; it occurs to Jay that this is probably the most people he's ever seen in one place. He's also holding Zane's sleeve, clutching it like a security blanket.

They've moved to the couch, where they sit side by side. Everyone else stands around them, too surprised to relax.

Jay wonders how long they've known each other. Zane left early the day before, so he must have known Echo for at least a day and a half. What could they have said to each other during that time?

He needs to speak with Nya, but he can't get a word to her through the discussion.

"You've been there this whole time?" says Lloyd, looking between the two...brothers?

Jay still stands by the logic that Echo and Zane are brothers, but does Zane think the same? What about Echo?

Jay feels like his head is about to split right open, and all the secrets that he's kept locked in a deep, deep chest will come spilling out like tidal wave.

He wants to speak with Nya _right now_ , but that would be suspicious. There's a lot that needs to be talked about, but they agreed not to tell everyone about Nadakhan.

Of course, this wouldn't change that.

Jay frowns. Would it?

Echo nods in reply, before opening his mouth to speak. "It was my home."

He sounds just like Zane, and everyone tries asking him questions again. Echo is bizarre, weird, fantastical. He's like Zane, but then again—not. He's an entire person, and he's spent years alone in a lighthouse.

Jay fiddles with his fingers. They left him behind.

"Everyone," Zane's voice, though soft, cuts through the chaos like a knife, "I know you're curious, but I brought him here to meet you, not to be bombarded with questions. The bottom line is this; my father built him, left him, and now he is staying here with me," he pauses before he says, "As family."

He's an odd look in his eye as he says it, and his gaze goes somewhat distant. The stiff smile he's held all night also disappears, turning grim. It worries Jay, and he really wants to speak with Nya. He keeps staring at her and giving pointed nods towards the door, but Nya shakes her head.

Echo just smiles on. He's shy, but he seems happy with this new and unexpected arrangement.

"It is very nice to meet you," he says, glancing between the ninja like he's not sure who to look at. He still speaks with jagged words, put together as he says them rather than thinking them through first.

"You too," says Lloyd. Normally, Jay would expect him to have some sort of speech prepared about the importance of family or value of friendship—anything preachy, really, but he still seems flabbergasted.

They all are. Jay can only imagine what's going on in Zane's head.

The thought makes him freeze, eyes growing wide. He'll have to check up on him; _he needs to talk to Nya_.

He makes a subtle nod towards the door again, but still she shakes her head.

"I didn't know I had—Zane," Echo points towards his brother with a smile. His teeth are as rusted as the rest of his body. The stains almost look like blood.

"I didn't either," Zane laughs, and it is not a friendly laugh. It is angry.

Jay feels something hard and cold form in his gut, and now Nya's gesturing towards the door. Jay would be irritated if he wasn't so relieved.

No one notices them go. They're too busy talking to Echo.

"What do we do?" Jay stumbles as they hurry into the darkened hallway, "What do we do? This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"He doesn't know us," Nya says, biting her lip as she thinks.

She's got a worried little frown that only shows up in dire circumstances. It makes Jay's stomach bottom out.

"It's not the same Echo," she says, though it is, really.

They forgot about him. Or—

"You think we should have told Zane about Echo?" Jay asks. He's been dying to ask this.

"Then we would have to have told them the rest of it."

That wasn't something they could do. All the same, it begs another, more difficult question:

"Do we tell them now?"

Nya is quiet. Too quiet. She shakes her head again, slowly.

"Why?"

"What'll it do but make things worse?" Nya stares at him, her eyes full of as many questions as Jay's mind, "Zane shouldn't have found out this way, but there's nothing we can do about that now."

"It wouldn't feel right to keep it a secret," Jay says, staring at the floor and scuffing his foot against the stone, "At least now."

Nya takes his hand. "We knew when we agreed to keep it a secret that it was going to hurt someone. There was no getting out of that. The best we can do is support Echo. Support Zane. Go along with it."

That certainly doesn't sit well, and Jay suspects the feeling is mutual. He doesn't know how to argue with it, though. Zane was already angry; Jay doesn't know how to tell it in a way that wouldn't make him more so.

Then again, he might have the right to anger. The secret has and still is a helluva one to keep between two people.

Jay sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alright," he says, "but I don't feel good about this.

Nya smiles sympathetically, and together, they rejoin the group. If they're going along with this quietly, they're at least going to make sure that Echo finds himself in a welcoming and friendly home. They promise it silently, that way someday the secret might sit well with them.

Echo certainly seems welcomed when they return; his smile is wide and genuine, and he seems to like speaking to his new friends. He is most fascinated currently with Kai's hair, wondering aloud how it can stand on its own.

Cole says that it's where Kai keeps his ego, and Kai doesn't deny it as he lets Echo gently touch a few strands. Echo is careful with all his actions; he still holds onto Zane's sleeve. Everyone else is smiling, now that the shock has worn off.

Or, at least, faded to the background. Much like Zane, Echo has a way of charming the room.

Speaking of Zane; he's watching Echo carefully. His expression is unreadable, and when he notices Jay looking, he's quick to replace it with his stiff smile. Jay feels awful about this.

After several long hours, Zane takes a tired and overwhelmed Echo to bed. Gizmo putters after him, having also been returned. They take Zane's bed, together like a normal boy and his dog.

"He's family," Zane tells Jay, who's followed them, "He deserves it."

He didn't have much of a bed in the lighthouse; Jay knows this for a fact.

He hovers outside of Zane's door as he waits for the nindroid to return. There's a lot Jay needs to say, a lot he doesn't want so say, and he's not sure which will come out.

"You alright?" he blurts when Zane finally reappears, hands rubbing at his temples.

 _I'm sorry,_ he wants to say, again and again and again and again.

Zane breathes a massive sigh. "I will not lie," he says, "It is a lot to handle."

Jay nods, wishing he could bring himself to say more. "You…" he tries, "You seemed upset earlier."

Zane nods. "I am. When I first saw him, I thought my father had attempted replacing me. When he said his name, I thought—well," Zane chuckles, "Then...later, it occurred he must think the same thing of me. Echo. Poor thing."

Jay is too afraid to speak, but he tries, "Does that bother you? Do you not like him?"

For some reason, the idea unsettles him, but Zane eases his thoughts when he shakes his head.

"No. It might've bothered me at first, but only a moment. And Echo is," Zane smiles, "nice. I'd like to know him. I want him to be happy here."

Jay wonders what could've happened in the hours he was alone with Echo. What did they say to each other?

Zane gets the odd look on his face again, and Jay finally realizes what it is. It's sadness, a mix of anger, mourning, and plain, painfully visceral sadness. Jay aches just looking at it.

"What does bother me," says Zane, "Is that I wonder; why did my father leave him behind?" he looks at Jay like he knows all of his secrets, though that can't possibly be true, "What kind of person would do something like that?"

Zane walks away with his mouth turned down, and Jay is left standing at the door, mulling those questions over in his mind.

* * *

 **I hope this counts as "quality." It and several other requests have been sitting in the WIPs for a while now (I swear I haven't forgotten them; it's just that my writing process is never linear).**

 **Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!**


	13. Wobble

**When I get writer's block, I pull up a list of words and try and write stories for each of them. They're brief things, some as short as 200 words. I shared some last year under Do Tell. This is a more recent one; I feel bad about leaving so many wips unattended, so I hope this will make up for it (for now, obviously).**

* * *

Cole's fall is hard, and he eyes his friends' faces the entire time, until the darkness swallows him whole.

There are many things about that day that Zane regrets. The decision to keep the Bounty steered to safety isn't one of them, but the decision to leave Cole behind is. It's a complicated mess of emotions that worsens when he looks at his friend, who sports a reminder of the ugly event and brings it wherever he goes.

Cole wobbles when he walks. It's subtle, only noticeable because Zane pays attention to these sorts of things. It starts in his leg and moves its way up his back, making him shake. If one didn't know what to look for, they wouldn't notice a thing.

But Zane does.

Zane doesn't regret keeping Kai from turning the ship around, but if he could go back and change anything leading up to those events, he'd listen when Cole shouted to wait up.

The traffic jam is a distant memory in their thoughts; mundanity usually is when followed by disaster. Zane is reminded of it every time he sees Cole wobble.

Zane and Pixal ran ahead of the traffic, which sat at a standstill, while Cole shouted for them to wait up. Zane didn't wait.

To this day, it's what he regrets the most, because he can't imagine how it must have felt later, when Cole fell. He eyed his friends' faces the entire time, watched them fly away, refusing to wait up. Refusing to turn around.

Zane wishes he'd listened during the traffic jam. He wishes he'd stopped, stood still while Cole shook the pins and needles from his foot, ran next to him until they joined Pixal again, until they met at the Bounty together. That way, when Cole fell and afterwards, he'd know for certain that he isn't the friend they'd leave behind, that he's just as important, that it pains and kills Zane to see Cole wobble.

But he didn't wait.

There's nothing Zane can do about it now.

He sits at the kitchen table, dipping cookies into a late-night glass of milk when Cole walks in.

"Hey," Cole greets as he opens the cabinets, "You're up late."

His leg is shaking, but he puts his weight on the opposite. Zane stares at it without meaning to, mournful.

"Couldn't sleep," he explains quietly, "Are you looking for the cookies?"

"I'm looking for anything, really," Cole smiles at him.

Despite everything, Cole is as friendly as ever. He didn't so much as criticize the team for leaving him behind, even hold it over their heads. Still, Zane can't help but feel that something has changed since then. It sits uncomfortably in his gut, like a rock or a brick that's shifted from its foundation.

"Here," says Zane. He's set out a plate of vanilla wafers and has been dipping them for the past hour.

Cole sits across from him with a sigh that's more relieved than it used to be. The wobble hurts him.

In silence, they sit, quietly chewing through the plate.

Then Cole says, "What's on your mind?"

Zane stares at his friend. Cole doesn't hold the event as a grudge, that much is clear. But Zane feels different.

"Nothing much. Just contemplating." _I should've waited for you,_ he thinks.

"Stewing, huh?" Cole chuckles, "Don't think too hard; your face looks like it's about to crack."

He shifts in his chair and winces as the wobble strokes an unwilling nerve. The fall was months ago. Zane worries the wobble is permanent.

"I wouldn't mind being distracted," Zane says. He dips a cookie and nibbles on it, mindless in his task.

"You want to talk about it?" Cole asks, eyebrows raised.

Actually, Zane does. There's a lot he needs to say, apologies and the like, but Cole doesn't want to talk. Cole doesn't speak of the fall.

"That's the way the cookie crumbles," was all he ever said about it, when they'd asked him of his wellbeing. He spoke like it was an inevitable event.

Like he's doomed to be 'that friend,' the one they leave behind. Like he's accepted that fact.

Zane shakes his head. _I should've waited for you._ "It's alright."

Cole's eyes dart over his face, and he shrugs. "Suit yourself."

They're quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts, which run deep in still waters.

"I found a wicked night crawler in the shower earlier," Cole eventually breaks the silence, "Jay's got it in a jar if you want to see."

Zane's eyes are on the table. "No thank you."

A beat.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Zane nibbles on his cookie, trying to find his words. The rock shifts and turns in his gut. It isn't a painful feeling, but it reminds him of all that is wrong with the state of their existence. Not every mission is taken in stride. Rather, they've added up over the years, and Zane fears of crumbling under the weight of it all.

"Do you hate us?" he asks.

Cole leans back in surprise, and Zane draws his legs and tucks them beneath his chair. He'd meant to say something else.

"Hate you?" Cole frowns.

Zane puts the cookie into his milk, poking it until it's entirely submerged, then, gone. "For leaving you behind."

That makes it click. "Oh," Cole says, shifting again, "Of course not. You guys did what you had to do. I can't fault you for saving lives."

His arms have folded; he remains leaning back, away from the table, away from Zane.

Zane notices these sorts of things.

"You mean the world to us," says Zane, "You know that, don't you?"

Cole nods, a stiff action. "Sure."

It's easy to say these things. Zane says them all the time. Showing it is another matter, and that, Zane believes, is his biggest regret.

He didn't show it enough; now such neglect has caught up with him, strained a relationship he was so comfortable with. He took it for granted, really.

Cole is a constant presence in their lives, and perhaps Zane assumed he'd always be there, like stone.

He should've waited when Cole asked.

"Hey," Cole says. He places his hand forward, holding it inches from Zane's own, before drawing it back. "I don't hold anything against you."

Zane shakes his head. He is not the one in need of comfort, but Cole continues talking.

"What happened, happened. I could never hate you. Any of you."

But that isn't the problem here. The problem is the rock in Zane's gut. The problem is the reminder that he's failed as a friend.

"Are you okay?" Cole asks, and Zane realizes he's been quiet too long.

"I'm fine," Zane speaks, "I just—I want you to be okay."

Cole smiles again. "I am okay. I promise."

He's lying. The wobble is proof of that.

Zane swallows, throat thick, and he makes his own promise. He's going to wait for Cole; he's going to make sure that Cole knows he's the world and more, that he's Zane's friend, that he means something to them. Sitting there, Zane promises not to leave any of his friends behind again.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you all have a wonderful day! Take care of yourselves this week!**


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